Dropsy

Breakups are a weird monster. Emphasis on the monster.

I feel like I've taken a 1.5 year hiatus from myself and don't know where I am yet.

I have uncovered some truths, some good, some surprising, a lot nasty.

It's been about 5 weeks and I still feel like I'm floating, though more in anger lately than sadness.

So far I've coped by being captain pro-active. Yoga, then studying, then hip hop class, then capoiera, then - if I can stomach it- the gym.

But at the end of the day I still find myself stamping my disordered bedroom floor demanding to know why the fuck I still feel like shit.

I mean come on, I do the positive self-talk in the mirror, make lists of why we broke up, go see a school therapist, did a detox, won a goddamn boxing match, made loads of plans for "ladies nights," and started drinking tea instead of coffee in the morning. What more does my stubborn-ass noggin need?

I'm not sure, but it may have something to do with letting go.