My heart has turned cold. I love no one and feel nothing. No tears. Nothing.
I let on/off come over to cook breakfast. When I asked him where the eff he was those weeks he was mia and ignoring my texts he said he was drinking a lot in the park.
I remember it was sunny and beautiful those days while I was crying in my apartment from neglect and heartbreak, wishing to go outside with someone to enjoy the last of the good weather.
I imagine him sitting in the park, indulging himself while I suffered because of his sudden inexplicable disappearance that went on for two weeks. He returned only when the weather cooled and his penis was covered with a yeast infection. Two more weeks until it's healed, but I doubt I will want sex with him. What use is he to me? I know how to make my own breakfast.
I told Yeasty to go back to the park. I couldn't stand looking him in the eye. I couldn't stand him being in my house, or on my couch, and especially not when he tried to hug me.
I'm gifting myself a couple days off from men. Let them drown their regrets in booze. Yeast it up, boys. I quit.
3:08 p.m. - 2019-11-26