Long story short, I extended an olive branch only to be shit upon today. I’ve apparently been “deleted” from the life of someone I cared about deeply for two years because I vented publicly in the immediate aftermath of my moving out debacle. I have not a single regret about doing this - I won’t ever apologize for expressing myself. I’m a writer. It’s what I do. But this close-minded, final response led to a meltdown in which I ran through the streets of FiDi on my lunch break hyperventilating until I found a quiet alley to break down in. I called my mom, I called my friends, and realized while dodging tourists I had pinched a nerve in my back. I was in such intense physical and emotional pain combined that I left work early. The pain in my neck and shoulder shot through me with every jolt of the subway, and my sunglasses did a poor job of hiding my splotchy tear-stained face. A man came over and asked nicely if everything was okay, which snapped me out of it because not everyone is bad. I shuffled home, injured inside and out, and collapsed on my bed. The kitten I never would’ve gotten if none of this had happened jumped on top of me and licked my eyelid. The boyfriend I wouldn’t have living two seconds away if none of this had happened came over with junk food and roses and hugs. We laughed together. He went to class, and I got check-up phone calls from friends. I felt my world beginning to realign itself again. I put an ice pack on my neck and comedy on TV and relaxed and laughed and felt grateful for my friends and my family and the life I’m living now, the life I wouldn’t have if someone hadn’t come along to beat the living shit out of my soul and force me to figure out an alternative plan. Out of misery springs happiness, bitch.