It’s been months. Sometimes I’m ok, but you are always on my mind. God, how I miss you! I have this really strong urge to call you right now, but I know you don’t want me to. So I’m writing here, again.
To catch you up…
I colored my hair, redder than you saw it last time. It’s short and shiny and curly. I am learning to love it that way.
I’m cultivating a healthy tan. Just because it feels good.
I am going back to the gym. My goal is to run a 5K, hopefully this year yet.
My kids have saved my life, again. I’m saving up for a divorce because suicide isn’t an option. I am ready to move on. I’m not scared.
Why am I so confident now? He raped me. I’m sure he wouldn’t see it that way, but I said No, then he said Yes, then I said No again… and the next day my arm was full of bruises. So if I call that what it is, I have to do something.
What would you say or do if I could actually tell you that? Would you care?
Do you think of me? Do you miss me? Are you in as much pain as I am? Will you come back? Are you happy??
“After all this time?”