The ceiling looks absolutely interesting tonight.
With my shoes discarded, my dress tossed carelessly onto the nearby chair, and just my bra and pants left on, I let the cool air from the open window soothe my skin.
It was sharp, almost biting, but I didn’t mind. I needed to feel something other than the ache that had settled in my chest.
I ran a hand through my tangled hair, sighing. I needed a shower.
Maybe the water would wash away the weight pressing on me.
The weight of my thoughts.
The weight of my… damaged heart.
My heavy, damaged heart.
I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the faint, uneven thrum beneath my palm.
It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself that I was fine, that the pills were doing their job, the truth was alw
