3/29/21

This scene keeps replaying in my head. Everything that we built for 6 months is glass shattered on the floor. I'm crying and crawling all over the place, picking it up, trying to put it back together, even if it's cutting me, even if it hurts. Even though some of the pieces are so small and seem insignificant, I'm trying to pick every single piece up because I want it repaired completely. And you're standing over me watching. You're amused, and you're minimally trying to decide if you should help a little. If there's anything about me that is worth the trouble to pick anything up. You decide there isn't. You decide the mess is too shattered and I look pathetic on the floor and you don't want me anymore. So you walk away.

Lilly's Dear Diary