What Are You Made of?

I'm not sure what you're made of, you maybe solid as a rock, or tough as nails. I know what I'm made of though, I'm made of mashed potatoes. My walls are easily penetrated, and the Trojan horse would have had me fooled too.

Since the first post I made concerning a recent breakup, I've contemplated running through a daily diary of getting over such an emotional experience. Then I thought the few people that do read this would just write me off entirely. Sadly, I was unable to control this. Writing right now seems like the best remedy. I'm unbelievably heart broken, and still surprised. Surprised by her action, and my reaction.

I'm not tough. I'm not tough by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, the gooey stuff that you find in a McDonald's chicken mcnugget, yea that's what I'm made of.

I called her...

I have so many questions that No One can answer for me, but her. Then again, I don't even know if I want the answer to any of these questions. I don't even know if I'll have the balls to ask. Remember, I'm not made of tough stuff.

I could be wrong. I am probably very wrong.

What about her though? What more could she have to say from what she said? What's left to say? Will she push this on me, and leave me to do the talking?

I guess I'll find out.


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