Sitting here alone carefully soaking my tears in tissues before they flow down my cheek, catching them as soon as they fill up so it doesn’t run down my mascara. Oh what a waste this was.
What’s sadder than a girl sitting in a nice restaurant, alone, at a table for two – hoping the ground would swallow her any minute now because sitting here alone any longer would kill her. It’s the thought of him, of how used she felt. Means to an end – that was all she was to him.
I really wanted to run, but there was nowhere I could go. And if that isn’t the saddest thing in the world, I don’t know what is. Not wanting to be somewhere so badly yet having no place to go to so you sit in agony pinching yourself in the hopes that one of the pinches would be painful enough to distract you from your current misery.
She Was Sea 