I felt the tears coming. Hot and frustratingly pushing their way out of my eyes.
"Don't be a weak bitch, c'mon." i begged myself.
I picked up all his dirty clothes off of the floor and threw them in the hamper, trying to busy myself so the tears would stop. It was no use, the hurt was there and it wasn't going away. I sat on the edge of our bed, looking at the picture of us on his side table. The tears felt like they were steam rolling down my face, my head was pounding and my skin was burning. I grabbed the picture, the frame was cool against my finger tips. I threw it across the room and watched the glass shatter. It looked exactly how I felt. I stood up, shrugging off my clothes and slinking into one of his shirts that he'd left. I walked past the broken glass and into the bathroom, looking into the mirror now, I felt numb. I put my dark hair into a ponytail on the top of my head and washed all of today's mess off my face. I brushed my teeth, wondering what I was gonna do when he came home, or if I'd even be here at all when he did. I spit the toothpaste out and walked back down the hallway to the bed that seemed bigger now than it ever has. As I let my body sink into the mattress, it felt cold, though I had all of the blankets on me.
I just want to stop hurting.
