Writing and rewriting my own tales day by day

I carry my MP3 player with me at all times because I don’t want to have to see you (with her). I pretend it’s an object of intense interest, that I can’t take my eyes off it, and hear nothing else but the music.


You’re not my problem, even though to some people it must seem that it’s this heartbreak that has made me so sad and withdrawn. No, not really. But it’s the salt rubbing on my wound. Reinforcing the very negative thought: “Nothing ever goes right for me. None of my wishes ever come true.”

What really ails me? As always, it’s my despair over my writer’s dream. Being in particularly low spirits at this time, people have been asking me: “Are you okay?” I give no reply. Because my answer would have been: “No, I’ll never be okay. I can just bear it and smile, except during times like now, when it becomes too much.” And saying that would alienate them.

The few I’ve confided in think I over-dramatize, in saying that this pain is always with me. But it truly is. When other aspects of my life are bright and happy, I do bask in that positive glow, but at the same time the pain is still there. Ignored and bypassed as I choose to give myself over to the good feeling.

Right now, there’s an absence of good feelings.

You wouldn’t have been the answer to my problems, since you wouldn’t have been able to make my writer’s dream come true. However, you would have mitigated the pain. You could’ve made my days brighter. If I was the one beside you.

But I’m not and she is. So the pain is sharper than ever.

I’ll just have to find another way to be able to bear it and smile.

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