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The only thing better than a hot shower after a break-up is this. Sitting on my toilet after a long day of holding back my bladder because my mother taught me not to trust two things; strangers and toilets outside my house. Emptying a full bladder has to be the true definition of bliss. I love it here, in this silence. My heart is not breaking, and the smell of my poop is the only despicable thing. I would sit here longer, were it not for my sister’s annoying complaints, “you’ve been there for thirty minutes. Get out! And use the goddamn freshener. Good Lord, when was the last time you hydrated? Smells like shit in here.” I think if she tried this therapy, she would be less bitter.

Darling reader, this has no relation to today’s story, but I would appreciate it if you considered it a reward after…