this

is who I am without you.

A little older, a little wiser, but at such a costly price-a $640 lesson, every first of the month.

Who am I without you? Let me count the ways:

A lover of orange chicken. A user of Waitr. Satsuma body lotion, Tumeric and Tonka shampoo and conditioner. A rigorous skin care routine. A more responsible eater, restless apartment wanderer. Takes fifteen minute baths, not three hour ones. Can't tell if it's because she can't relax or because she's tired of being stationary.

Can eat whenever she wants without having to worry about making someone else go hungry when she isn’t. Can disappear for hours, and no one needs her to come back, except for Jack, and he’s doing fine. Doesn't have to burn with resentment about the job anymore, or the residual guilt from resenting said job. Doesn't have to measure up to the bestie. Can be sad without being a victim. Can need something, without being needy. Can be angry, without being silenced. No more guilt at the grocery store.

Frequent user of the saying, '10-4'. Checks herself when she has road rage. Separates her meat before defrosting. Watches Grey's Anatomy, Weeds, The Office. Folds her clothes. Doesn't call off. User of the logic tree. Hardly ever drinks and doesn't want to, even when she needs to. Sits on the balcony and watches the rain fall. Has a bottle full of Xanax but doesn't want to touch them. User of coupons.

Doesn't check phone as much. Reads too little. Has a terrifying itch of a thought that sex (or lack thereof) is now a barometer, or will be a barometer, of how much she is loved, or will be loved. Is exploring that idea more in theory than in practice. So far.

Filled with helpless rage one minute, flat indifference in the next. Letting people hang themselves is more satisfying. So far. A student echoes a teacher.

Ignorer of messages. A flicker of switches, a builder of walls. Not too high, but not as low.

Knows that what she wants and needs

is not too much to ask for.

Not as scared anymore

But still terrified, all the time.

This is who I am without you. Some good. Some bad. I wouldn’t let it get to your head, either way.

One of these days I'll figure out if I like it or not.