I needed to feel a dif­fer­ent pain. I needed to reassert myself. I needed to change my body from the one he knew.

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I’ve been killing it. Nights that bleed into morn­ing, pots of cof­fee, retail ther­apy, English ales that drink like meals. The blood doesn’t faze me any­more. Instead of slowly slip­ping down the spi­ral, I’ve decided to fall all the way so I can climb back up.

Sometimes you have to tear your­self down before you can start rebuilding.