I watched Zoe's back for the final time as she walked out that door.
That was three days ago.
Today, I am still a fucking mess, and god knows I think that I will still be one for a while. The fact is that I cannot keep living in the vicious circle of absolutely torture. There is nothing…between us only spaces of emptiness and nothing. There was love…once, yet there was none; as for feeling, what parts existed? What parts of us existed?
The thing with moving on is you will be stuck there for a while. You will be moving, yet you will still be stuck in the memory, in the moments. So are you truly moving on?
I say it is bullshit.
But I cannot be that man that is going to climb into a deep abyss and sit in my own misery wondering what went wrong. I am Foster Rosario, and I will not let women ruin my life and kick me down. I am getting off this fucking floor where I have been wallowing for the last three days, and I am claiming back my life.