PS: I Hate You

by Lauren Connolly

I’m a sweatshirt slut. A hoodie whore.

Can’t pick apart the weird, unending relationship that leaves me vulnerable time and time again. Can’t admit to them that I’m still gutted by a boy who hurt me when I was nineteen. I don’t need them to tell me he shouldn’t still affect me this way.

You’re worth more than a shitty boss and spending forty plus hours a week doing something that’s just fine.”

“And do you see me now?” I whisper, the sound more vulnerable than I ever thought I’d let myself be with Dominic Perry again. He doesn’t hesitate on his answer. “You’re all I see.”

Don’t base your self-worth in the same place you get a paycheck.

“Everyone grieves differently. Tears are a symptom of sadness, not the feeling itself. You can be sad with your eyes dry. Your pain is valid in whatever form it comes.”