I can’t believe it.
I can’t f*****g believe it.
My hands clench tightly on my steering wheel as I head home, half-eaten bread and butter in my buckled-in takeout box. It’s almost too hard to see the road with how much I’m crying.
Am I a fool? Is my life just a big joke to make fun of without letting me in on it?
Like, did I do something to deserve this?
I just can’t wrap my head around it. Part of me doesn’t want to because I’m pretty sure I’ll just collapse in a pile of tears or have a freak out if I think about it too much.
Twice in a single year, I’ve been stood up on a date.
No replies to my texts, no calls, nothing on social media. The last photos he uploaded were from the party the night before. It’s like he’s just disappeared off the face of the earth.
If he had gotten too d
