Mess

I am a shattered mess. I was filled with an aching emptiness before you, endless joy and comfort with you and a gaping hole without you. 1/2 of my soul is missing. I feel completely broken. The zombie-like state seems to be getting worse. I go about my day but only my shell is alive, I, I am somewhere else. I desperately want to get over you before you get over me. Desperately. I'm competitive and to me this is a race. But I fear I will never get over you. Words were never enough to tell you what you meant to me. I thought about seeing you again. I would die of embarrassment: the 4th grade fat girl who has a crush on the popular boy. Only the popular boy doesn't have a crush on her---embarassing. To love and not be loved in return. That's who I am, the fat girl again. Only the boy did love me, he just didn't love my religion.