The night after he told me he wasn't in love with me anymore, I went to Walgreens. It seemed like a good place to go for someone who is back at square one. I picked up some over the counter sleeping pills and also a two dollar dog toy and a hair brush. I wondered why I hadn't bothered to brush my hair in the last four months, and if I had, would I be in this situation?
***I've decided that my face could use some cosmetic enhancement, but it's taken me this long to decide that.
***The girl who checked me out had white blond hair, dyed, and skinny Angelina Jolie arms. She pulled my things against the scanner and said, "I'm so bored, I want to die."
Sometimes you hurt so badly, you want to fall apart. You dream about yourself in pieces all over the house but when you wake up, you're still one whole, terrible, thing.
It's infuriating. All that talk about break downs and break ups and heart breaks, as if your heart was a crystal paperweight that could take a good smash against a marble floor every now and then.
My glossy, twenty five year old heart isn't going to break. It's a muscle and it goes squeeze, squeeze, squeeze. Its double chambers rush with blood and empty again and again.
"Can't you read a magazine?" I asked the cashier, thinking I'm being helpful. I like to help solve other people's problems.
The skinny armed girl flicks her eyes left and right, then leans in. "We're not allowed to. We're not even allowed to have drinks back here."
"Not even water?" This sounded vaguely illegal to me.
She said, "Not. even. water. Although it depends sometimes on the manager."
Then I thought about telling her how I had it rough too. That I was going home to experiment with generic sleep medications because I loved someone who doesn't love me.
Talk about an age old story.
I don't say anything, because why one up the poor girl. She was stuck in a Wallgreens, not just all night, but night after night. I got to go home and pack up my car and begin forgetting, and she'd still be standing there surrounded by magazines she couldn't touch, eyes glued to the glacial sweep of the second hand.
I really think she may have had it worse than me.