Recycled

5

July 22, 2011 by Lynn Beighley

This isn’t the last time I’ll cry about you, but it’s the last big cry. It’s the last cry that sends me to the bathroom, locking myself in for too long, claiming I have stomach trouble. It’s the last cry that leaves me splashing my face with cold water, forcing myself to smile. This is, I swear, the last time you’ll make me reapply my mascara.

I’m sure I’ll spend a few more tears on you, mostly at night, in the dark, tears seeping into my pillow, the world sleeping, me silently sobbing, wondering why I didn’t matter to you as much as you did to me. Was I not funny? Was I not sexy? What did I ever ask of you? Goddamn you. You don’t deserve me.

Wondering what I did wrong, wondering why you didn’t care.

And I splash my face, I blink at myself in the mirror. I’m flushed, my eyes glisten. I smile at myself. I think about everything except you. I take a deep breath. Your memory emerges and I shut it the fuck down. I scream inside to stop. To stop. To stop.

And then I inhale fresh air, without you in it. This time. No, every time, from now on.

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5 thoughts on “Recycled

  1. Jamie says:

    “And then I inhale fresh air, without you in it. This time. No, every time, from now on.”

    I love this.

    Thank you.

  2. Marda says:

    “Your memory emerges and I shut it the fuck down”

    Powerful, beautiful and so utterly heartfelt.

    I love how empowering your writing is, Lynn.

  3. Thomas Pluck says:

    Great stuff, Lynn… how those bastards haunt us long after they’re gone…

  4. Harley May says:

    This is gorgeous. Powerful.

    Thanks for writing it.

  5. Goddamn it, Lynn. I’ve read this before, and just read it again, and this time…this time it punched me squarely in the gut, causing me to gasp for breath.

    Next time you’re looking into my bedroom window, please come in. We’ll have ice cream.

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