minuscule

I can turn on the radio and actually sing along.
I do things for myself.
I can drive by your neighborhood and not stop.
I can enter the new passcode on my phone without a second thought.
I can sit in 5th period with ease.
I can smile at, and roll my eyes at you just the same.
I don’t care.
I don’t go on your facebook everyday.
I filed everything away.
I took everything down.
I see you for who you are without being clouded by love.
you’re not my laptop wallpaper anymore.
your name doesn’t evoke feelings in me.
I can’t imagine myself with you.
I realize it wasn’t worth it.
I acknowledge how miserable I was.
I can admit it was a great run.
I see everything as just a wonderful memory.
I can take deep breaths.
I can find someone better.
my pillow’s dry.
I can thank you for most things, and curse you for the rest.
I like where I am right now.
I don’t care that you blocked me from your newsfeed.
I don’t care that you blocked me from facebook chat.
I just don’t have that need to talk to you anymore.
I don’t have to lie when people ask how i’m holding up.
I don’t stare at your contact name, wishing to talk to you.
Finally. Just. Finally. 
Finally the hell is over.
Finally I feel free. 

I just really want my blanket back. Dunno why you want it.

I’m actually wearing makeup for you today. So that when you’re just lying there and I’m unwillingly taking you all in, I won’t feel as self conscious as I would if I were wearing my normal everyday makeup. Be as gentle as possible, please.

That’s funny.. I have reception, but no connection when I’m around you. Almost like I never had connection to being with.

Why do I feel like I’m going to grow into someone else? Someone taller, someone prettier, someone with long, skinny legs, proportional boobs, and caramel skin? Why is it so hard for me to accept that how I look right now is how I will look in 5 years? I’m more in touch with my personal self than my physical self, and you know what? That’s okay. Call me cocky, but I don’t need to be pretty; I think i’m pretty attractive on the inside. 

Am I actually starting to like movies?
Nah.
Living vicariously through the characters is probably just another form of self destruction.

Since i laughed so hard my non abs hurt. Someone get me the hell out of here and teach me how to be genuinely happy again.