I really thought that I wouldn’t hate January 13th this year. Or at least I had hoped.
I was actually soaring right through without even thinking about it. And then I was writing my last post and the word “divorce” stopped me dead in my tracks. Shit!
Fuck this. I am so over the whole thing. I really am over it; to a degree.
I still have my things. I still cringe at the thought of getting serious with someone. Every time I think about how lucky I am that we never had kids, I cringe. What if I screw up again next time? What if next time I do have kids and he leaves me too? Then what? I’m so screwed.
I don’t want to dwell on this. Believe me. I barely even think about the divorce anymore. I keep it a secret, I don’t blurt it out. The afflictions that have been bestowed upon me are my little secrets. If you are lucky enough to get into my inner circle then maybe you know. I don’t get depressed, I don’t cry, I don’t even think about him, except this one day a year. And even then, I won’t dwell on this. I’ll write this and maybe I’ll bring it up to my mom tomorrow. But, then its over and I get on with my life.
I’ve turned into one tough chick. One girl who knows who she is and knows what she wants. And that is great. I just have to stay focused this time around. I can’t have another January 13th.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
Lets not go for “again”