sigh.

you know that sinking, rushing feeling after you make the decision to break up with your boyfriend/girlfriend?

you just don’t believe it’s happening. it’s racing mush in your head. no one else walking down the hallway exists while your holding your diaphram and remembering to breathe.

you’re making a choice that makes you feel better but you hate it.

it leaves a terrible taste in your mouth like a night of aderol and typing. or the filmy sensation in your stomach after too many ciggarettes in one sitting.

[you’ll get it soon. this isn’t a story about a boyfriend anyway. there’s no breaking up in this story. see july 18.]