Last weekend was amazing.
It started on Friday with a slip of the tongue, an unintentional confession. Perhaps forgetting for a moment who I was.
And it occurred to me that I am always the girl before the big story. I am always the girl just before the girl who counts.
The girl you were dating when you met the woman who would later break your heart.
The girl you had just broken up with when you met the mother of your child.
The girl who isn’t unique or special.
It’s the girl who comes immediately after me who is always ‘different’.
And that’s when my self-esteem drowned in a flood of emotion, self-doubt and great hiccuping sobs.