A few years ago, a man had said same things to me which led to our long-incoming break-up; not the biscuits but whatever else was said.

I was surprised at my response when I revisited that conversation in the light of what happened between us. In a way, I had been cruel, but not without cause. This time around I was measured; emotional reactiveness low and emotional support high. I wish I could do the same for me. Instead, I slathered my legs with Almond Shower Oil and threw in the most expensive perfume with a t-shirt and nothing else. Not about to wear expensive make-up if I'm going to be broken up with, lessons from my 20s I carry within me. Despite that, felt like he's almost glad to see me disheveled. Perhaps, I wasn't as proud of my choice when I saw two Brat summer chicks walking past me in fancy af outfit. A lot for coffee, if I'd done but not so much to show that I still got it. Another day, another slay. 

It was strange to hear the question that had been going in my head. One that I had cried answering earlier that evening, "because I don't think I could have done everything this year the way I did, without him," and when I heard that again, it took all the courage to not have my voice break. "Why do you look angry?" I don't know. I shouldn't have napped. I shouldn't have journalled so hard. 

Don't take things for granted, kids. One day someone's gonna come and take your lifeboat of hope away and you'll be floating with a unicorn float all alone in an ocean full of muck and dirt without anyone to save you. 

Welcome to 33, you have no metabolism, no energy to give and no fucks left in you.