My left breast traps my brain and I love him and fuck this interview… Yeah that’s a good title. 

I’m sitting here drinking coffee, surrounded by boxes still. Admittedly less boxes than yesterday but more than I’d like. I need my life to come together and quickly. I have a constant running list of things in my head and a pain in my heart that keeps me busy. Man, I’d like some calm, though. 
Instead this morning my brain has decided that my left breast will itch and throb. I grip my coffee cup tight and breathe, willing the sensation to go away and refusing to aid my brain by “touching” my “breast.” This is what my morning has consisted of. A few hours of sitting, trying to meditate, breathe, telling myself over and over I can do this, and having to convince myself that I am not crazy like everyone says. I refuse to glance down but my left breast mocks me anyway. It’s constant weight and throb slowly builds my anger. Getting dressed is going to be done through tears. 

I’d love to call him or text him and I know he’d make me feel better but I’m afraid I’ll slip back into being bitter and angry about us and I’m tired of being bitter and angry. So I don’t contact him. 

I “shelled” my profile last night and I no longer know this password. It’s a silly website. But it was where I lived for 10 years. The pain of that has tipped me over the edge today. 

Man, I need some calm. I have an interview today.  Fuck this stupid job. The only offer I’ve gotten out of all the applications I’ve submitted. I really don’t want this job. 
Oh this day, and these thoughts, and this stupid breast that isn’t, and fuck how much I love him. 
I must go get dressed through my tears. 

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