I survived. Just barely. My fingers blistering, my feet so torn, knees weak... I survived an entire evening in the company of Mr. Wrong. I thought that I never could.

It's this stupid thing we do every year, everyone together and I thought that the mere anticipation of it was going to kill me. Leave my tortured soul to dry up into dust. But, I am still here. Here where everything hurts. Here where I am still alone, afraid, empty. The sand stretches out for miles around.

It was so hard. Being so close. His foolish games... following me. His touch, like fire. Igniting some inner rage. Making me want to hurt him. Damn him. Damn everything. Damn this cursed curse! The only thing I can do to hold on, is to be satisfied by my own will. Satisfied that I fought to give him no pleasure. Avoiding him like the plague. Holding on to some false belief that he could somehow know what it is to be the rejected lover. The one that was left behind.

All the while the moments seemed infinate. The moment I walked passed him with my nose in the air and my heart in my hand. The moment, the split second when his pupils bore right through me and punctured the wound he had already made. The moment when I realized that nothing was ever going to be okay between us. That I will always feel the way that I feel. And I felt him look at me. At the end of the day. And he said goodbye. With a sound that felt like forever. My name the last word upon his lips.

And I survived.