broken

The floor was littered in candy wrappers and liquor bottles. Those lindt chocolates had tasted so good the night before, but now they sat in her stomach, weighing her down. Chips and cookies were scattered across the table, crushed soda bottles lining its edges. She was sure she had to have gained at least twenty pounds last night. And the freezer door, still wide open, with empty cartons of ice cream everywhere, it seemed like she had one bite for every tear she cried. What did she do wrong, was she not good enough for him? She had given her heart and soul for that relationship, was his ending it the way to tell her that she wasn't enough and would never be enough? She stumbled up off the couch, headed for the bathroom. A liquor bottle laughed at her, she picked it up and downed it, drinking away her pain, then threw the mocking bottle as hard as she could. Its shattered pieces went in all directions, the glitter caught her eye in the corner. What was that? She walked over slowly, holding on to things to keep her up right. She picked it up, a dusty journal from when the relationship began. As she sat back to read it, the alcohol put her into a deep sleep. When she awoke, her mind was once again clear, she sat up to go and clean up her post breakup mess, yet as she reached down to push herself up, her hand caught the edge of the journal. She began to flip through it, laughing at her childish rants about how cute he was, and their first kiss, and every moment. Then she reached the bad ones, where things got rocky, and she began to read the things she tried to forget about, and ignore when she was with him. The day he first hit her, the things he said to her, how she starved herself to be what he wanted, yet that was never enough. She got to the end, realizing she had stopped journaling, because she herself had become blind to the truth. She held her head up strong, she was going to become a new women, no longer subjecting herself to that violence, she would not turn back. She was better off without him.