in spite of my subcultural affiliations, i don’t cry very much.

i’ve been sort of moody for the past week or so since the breakup. nothing surprising. to be expected, really. every day is like every other day, except maybe it’s a little harder to get up in the morning, a little more difficult to concentrate during meetings, a little earlier that i need to go to bed.

i got some bubble bath on friday at sephora. fleur d’orange, my favorite scent. i filled the tub with hot water tonight when i got home from work and poured in some of the thick amber goop. i
haven’t taken a bubble bath in forever. i’m a shower sort of person.

i climbed into the tub and had a good soak. i stayed there until the bubbles had all disappeared and the water started to cool, leaving me goosebumpy. and then i started to cry.

there wasn’t anything in particular to prompt it. i mean, yeah, i miss him. i don’t regret breaking up with him - i wish i hadn’t had to do it, but i don’t regret having done it. nevertheless, i somehow ended up sitting naked in a tubful of lukewarm water and bawling my eyes out.

it’s embarrassing. i feel like the teenager i haven’t allowed myself to be in years, regardless of when my twentieth birthday actually occurred. i don’t like to feel vulnerable, and it’s not often that i actually allow myself to be vulnerable. i don’t know what it is; i guess somehow i just feel like i need to be tough, or at least appear so.

but i’m not. i’m just a girl sitting here in an old cure t-shirt with wet hair and tears in my eyes.