Insert Expletives Here

I drove by the bar at least once a week, but never stopped. It was too painful to think about the memories.

I wasn't sure what to do next. Should I wait for him to come to me or should I go? I sent a few texts, funny stuff I knew he liked. Sometimes I got a laugh, but it was like if he gave a genuine response, he'd get in trouble with the new girl. Short and innocent responses. Liar. Maybe he'd shared those things with her and they were now their inside jokes.

Awkward.

We were talking less and less. I was driving alone more and more.

But I never left the car. Getting out and socializing was too hard. What if I slipped up and said something about the situation? Then I had to think about it. Thinking about it made me angry and after the anger came the sadness and depression.

I sang loudly in the car. Badly, but who would hear?

I missed his call. I felt guilty. I tried to return it responsibly, but he missed that.

I miss him.

Crap.

Now that the gates are open, the tears and rage come at once.