In the five months that I’ve been here, I’ve watched every one if my closest friends cry and struggle over the infatuation of a man.
I’ve held my friends tight, and poured them wine, and watched them puke into a toilet, as they sob over a man they thought cared for them.
This is why I’m single.
I find myself repeating over and over in my head.
I can’t bring myself to go through that heartache again. But at the same time, I realize how unusual it is for me to be heart broken. I’ve watched people do some crazy stuff over a relationship that had lasted as long as my period. I’ve never become so attached so quickly.
Sometimes it’s good to have a cold heart.
Sometimes it’s good to be heartless.