A Story In 100 Words

I was eighteen when I met you. I did not like you. When I was nineteen – I kissed you. My feelings changed. When I was twenty – I slept in your arms. My heart changed. When I was twenty-one I slept with you. I did not love you. You broke my heart for the first time. It healed.

Twenty years later, you still call. My heart has been sewn, ripped apart, and patched back together. It has been systematically desensitized from your ploys and is now just existing somewhere between my stomach and lungs. Biological in space yet empty in soul.

From Guest Contributor Lindsey Stevens

Please support the site by purchasing one of my books on Amazon. Check out Quitting The Grave, a murder mystery set on the Oregon Trail. Plus, don't forget my other books: They Both Loved Vonnegut, Ahab's Adventures in Wonderland, and Picasso Painted Dinosaurs.