"Don't be sad on the internet. Don't be sad on the internet."

I am repeating this to myself. I can be sad here, in this blog, if I want to be, and I did post a breakup announcement to my "close friends" on fb (I really love that feature, btw, and I don't think enough people are aware of it or use it) yesterday, but I am trying to limit it to that. No poignant song postings, no vaguetweets or vaguebooking or any of it.

I don't want to be sad on the internet this time. And I've blocked Joey on every social media we previously shared. It has kept my anxiety at a minimum. And the sadness too, I think. There has been a little bit of crying today. A little bit of kneeling on the floor, scolding the vial of ashes from bbqs in Minneapolis, topped by stones from a creek in Wisconsin, topped by tiny shells found on the bank of the Ohio the first week after I arrived in Louisville. A vial to represent my journey, that I sat on the floor and chastised, only to realize I was not helping myself.

All of this now is about helping myself. Find friends, find a good group of people, find my place.

I get angrier and angrier at Joey. He only gave me two months. Two months in the worst period of my life wherein I was still charming and funny and warm and made him dinner and loved him despite all of the shit happening to me.

Fucking hell.