Paint that shit gold.

This is the last one for November and it's going to be good.

Three months and eleven days is not long, not long at all. One of the trickest things about a break up is discerning whether or not your new decisions are really your decisions or if you're just trying to prove some sort of sick point. Ethier way, it's too late. How things ended up this way I. Still. Have. No. Idea. I can't look at you without wanting to cry. Without wanting to grab you and jump with you into some nonexistant time portal back to last year. But this is all just wishful thinking and wishes just don't come true. We were never black and white. I was red and you were blue. And still I can't touch you without feeling like I'm burning you or fucking you up.

Things will nevaaa, evaa be the same. I take one step forward and two steps back. I have one door creaking closed and another is blasting wide open. Sort of like the pressure of the air someone must feel when they're about to jump out of a plane. My self-respect is a choice. The most adult thing I can bring myself to do.

Like I said around this same time last year -- you've got to be able to look your problems in the eye and really fucking wrestle with them. So I still have my same last name (that's Ms. Roussel to you) and I put my war paint on and I look in the mirror and I tell myself: it's okay to cry and it's okay to be sad but there's gotta be a line, mama. You've got to have limits. You've got to not only tell yourself "this isn't good, I shouldn't be doing this" but you've got to STOP doing what isn't good, too.

There is nothing short of God coming down off his starry Lazyboy that could change my mind. My self-respect is a choice. The bitterness is dissolving and I'm getting closer to that point where I can look back and just be happy. Be happy that I was happy. That God ever blessed me with something so awesome -- even if it didn't turn out how I wanted to in the end. But hey, such is life. And woe is me and blah, blah, blah.

Life isn't pretty pictures or literature or movies or a song on the radio. It's being honest and making decisions and learning how to put yourself back together after someone tears you apart.

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