.shut up and listen.

She promised this too shall past. 

That one day I’ll find a love that won’t make the mornings feel like dancing with the devil. 

She says one day I will know what it feels like to wake up without the room spinning. 

She tells me this in the mornings when she stomps around my room to pick up the empty glasses from the night before. 

She pulls the curtains so the sun can slap me in the face; her blunt way of telling me she thinks I’m being ridiculous. 

She’s passive. 

She doesn’t ask what happened. 

She doesn’t cry in front of me. 

She doesn’t beg me to stop. 

No, she’s a stubborn woman, stubborn enough to know that this world of sympathy will never get me anywhere. 

You look pathetic she tells me one night when she walks in on me in the kitchen with my eyeliner smearing down my cheeks with a bottle of Jameson on the counter.  

What kind of strong women are you suppose to be, crying over some man.