I’ve dreamt about this day. How I would look (ahhh-mazing!), what I would say (oh, so many things—all perfect and cutting), and most importantly, the validation I would feel when I realized he no longer makes my body come alive with a single look. Instead, I’m standing here in a thrift store dress that’s a size too big, I can’t seem to make anything coherent come out of my mouth, and worst of all his stare still ripples over my skin like electricity. It pisses me off. All of it.
