Excised with surgical precision, like a cancer that he desperately needed to rid himself of. The sadness overwhelms me, no matter how many times I try to break free. Today the sadness is interspersed with flashes of anger. I am sick of thinking of him, sick of agonizing over his love withheld with such immaculate control, sick of feeling so used and discarded.

I'm too old for this, my hair's gray, my jawline going all loose and droopy. I've stopped caring about my body, what does it matter if I go up a size, who will care? No one that matters. I'm tired of attracting trouble, men who express interest while their date's in the bathroom, men who spend every Friday evening dating a bucket of cold beers. There's no way to get to where I want to be from where I am.