Closure.

Closure.

She looks at her phone, wondering if he’ll ever come home. It’s becoming a routine now. Six AM morning runs, the detox tea, the office hours, the gym. The desperation, the obsession with making him stay, has taken over her whole life and she doesn’t even know who she is anymore.

She’s almost twenty five, and she’s brilliant. She’s got free advice and she’s got a million. Neither of which helps her anyway. He wasn’t ever meant to stay. He was meant to go away, and go away he did. Today was just another day. Why, oh why, did she fall in love, why oh why, did she fall apart, why did she let herself go astray – all these questions burn into the back of her head.

Three days, and there’s been no contact.

A month goes by, still no change.

He’s missing, it’s like he never existed. His Insta and his Twitter, his Snapchat, the selfies with those filters – all seem fictional to her these days.

And then he resurfaces, New Girl on his arm. He doesn’t bother to break up, he just moves on. Ferrari and Dior Homme, sunset in Malibu, New Girl in his arms. Doesn’t matter if she’s a gold digger, she’s got the body. Doesn’t matter her heart seems empty, doesn’t matter because they’re both drunk on their vanity.

Doesn’t matter he managed to break a young woman’s heart – doesn’t matter it was with her best friend, doesn’t matter how many wedges drove these girls apart, doesn’t matter, none of that matters. She closes her eyes and the tears fall. She’s numb, she never wanted the money, she never wanted it all.

Funny how the only thing you want is the only thing that’s denied you – funny how closure is the hardest thing to give to your girl.