I have never considered myself a feminist. I am not the type of university girl that normally feels empowered enough to post another article from Upworthy or an editorial piece on women’s rights from another liberal-leaning post. I have never felt right or worthy enough to speak up until now.
I didn’t even know I was able to feel anything at all. You always built me up so high, so when you left me for someone else, I fell very far.
I was married, but I was more alone than ever.
I’m not letting on about my discoveries yet. It’s been surprisingly easy since it’s so shocking, it’s almost not real anyway.
One year later and I still think about my baby most days. I find myself wondering if it’d be a boy or a girl, or what he or she would look like. Sometimes I even find myself Googling “baby development stages” to see what little behaviors it would have developed by now.
But you’ve succeeded. You’ve won.
I know he was the perfect guy, the most simple and educated man I could ever ask for.
I let you abuse my emotions and my endless capacity to care about and love you.
Where’s the creativity and philosophy? When did writing become so stale?