I despise the shit my life has turned into eversince what happened to me eight months ago.
It was once impossible for me to believe that sometimes it only takes one person, just one person to make your life one blissful haven and reduce it to nothing in only a matter of a few years.
As I stand parallel to this mirror in front of me now, like I do on most occasions nowadays, I see something I can barely recognize at all. Something that was never me. Something I thought I would never look like.
Broken.
If my friends-any one of them-were to take a look at me now,they would never in a million years believe I was once that sassy,unbothered party girl who used to make every one of them go to clubs with her and bribe them to all get drunk just so she could not have to experience the hangover effects on her own the next morning.
They'd never believe I was once the girl that had the hottest, sexiest boyfriend among all of them.
Even when I look at myself now, all I can see is how hilariously broken I am. From the old, smelly, wrinkle-stained clothes on my body, to my slightly unupright frame, to the large dark circles that surround the most of the parts under my lower eyelids, all the way to my untrimmed nails and hair that looks as though birds had a fight atop it. It probably smells just as bad, too. But I cannot tell because it's being held behind my head by the old sock I discovered was under my bed two and a half months ago.