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I am not afraid to shed the skin that once was warm with your touch. The familiarity I wore like an extra layer—one, for the longest time, I was too stubborn to take off.

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Sometimes lost love is a reminder. Of who we are. Of our worth.

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Drastically change your appearance.

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Look at your feet.

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You’re totally fine, and then it hits. The pain. The agony. The sobbing into your best friend’s blouse at 3AM, surrounded by pizza crust and empty beer bottles.

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I am rebuilding my life the only way I know how. By starting over, with a clean slate.

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I built you up. I asked you to be vulnerable, to open up to me and to talk about your previous heartaches. My intentions were never to hurt you.

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You stop feeling as though he’s the only one you see yourself with.