This is not a movie.

Sometimes I wonder what people think when they see me. Most everyone in my day-to-day life knows what I have been through and I often wonder what runs through their minds when they talk to me. I hope they don’t feel bad for me, because I don’t feel bad for myself.

There are times I think it would be nice to go somewhere that no one knows me. Not so much to hide, more to not feel like my misfortune is what everyone is thinking about when they look at me. At the same time, the unknown is scary. Can people see that my insides are torn apart? Is there something in my eyes that show them I am hurting?

I’d like to think all my pain is not written on my face, but I am not a good judge. I know that is a huge exaggeration, but it feels like I am wearing a scarlet letter. I wish I knew how to move past that feeling, but I have not figured out how yet.

I knew that healing would be slow, you don’t come back from being left at the altar quickly. This is not a movie, and I am not an actor. The perfect man didn’t walk through the door and sweep me off my feet the next day, and I’m glad he didn’t. There is still much for me to learn and healing to be done before I can think about sharing my life with anyone else.

Tomorrow will be a little bit easier and I will become a stronger me everyday.

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