Ideally

By Airea Johnosn

I no longer scream to be heard. Polite smiles and “thank you’s” instead of belly laughs and word vomit gushes. My family is fine and addiction never came to visit. I now know when sharing is “too much,” The wave of desperation doesn’t exchange casual greetings with my inner saleswoman. “Take me! Love me! I’ll give you my beating heart in a laced gift box for just a glance!” I never apologized for you leaving so abruptly, I am no longer fazed by the men who don’t love me.