She wakes up in the morning, showers, does her hair, puts on her makeup (even when the tears will wash it away before work), slaps on her smile and walks out the door. She looks to the outside world as though she has everything under control. Nobody ever knows when she’s hurting because she has become so good at hiding it.
Truth is, it took 45 minutes to get out of bed this morning.
She averaged about 4 hours of sleep between checking her phone every hour, crying, thinking and wondering if things would ever change. She only put on the makeup to hide the hideous bags under her eyes from drowning her sorrows in a little bit too much Jack D last night. Her smile is about as fake as the “I’m so happy” status she posted on Facebook last night.
She’s broken inside. And why shouldn’t she be? She wasted so much time on one guy for him to be exactly what everyone says he would be. She feels stupid, naive, hurt, pissed, worthless. Every memory races through her head every time she has a minute to think. Every time he said he wanted her. Every time he promised he wouldn’t leave. Every text, every call, every little detail. Right down to how he would smile and stare at her when he thought she didn’t notice.