See what had happened was that I was fine with the way things were. Life was platinum or at least Tiffany silver. Never mind the drunken arguments with stupid ass boys and the hopeless crushing on the pretty boy. Everything was cool. I could eat and sleep like everybody else. Then the new year arrived, bringing my lucky number’s power with it and for a quick minute, I thought I was living in some crazy romantic film. Crazy was the operative term, though, and before I knew it, the man had disappeared on me. Better that than me trying to knock out his teeth. After all, I gots the love of my girls and my boy(yeah you know who you are, papi, haven’t felt this close to a guy since I first met the DJ over a decade ago) and Mami and Daddy and the pooches. And before I could finish picking up the mess of my Humpty Dumpty insides splattered all over the place, someone else has shown up on the scene. My mind can’t quite take it. I’m losing myself in sobs, tears, and thoughts that are better suited for a wannabe Goth girl in her teens.

It gets tiring. All that energy poured out into pillows, tissues, and long-distance phone calls. All the things best left unsaid.
But this is supposed to be my year so I’ve called the doctor. I got to make this work.