Crown of Love

The note had been crumpled and smoothed and crumbled and smoothed so many times that it was threatening to disintegrate into nothing. But, here I was smoothing it out once more.
I gazed out over London. It was all lights and noise and concrete beauty. Illusions of grandeur and importance. A million people desperately trying to prove that they were worth something. Trying to put a small mark on the world to show that they were here, while here I sit, chardonnay warmly flowing through my body, staring into the lights, trying to convince myself to do something, anything that would make me unique from the thousands of girls in this city who had their hearts broken and were too self-pitying to get over it.
There were so many things that I had wanted to tell him. So many things that I wanted to congratulate him on. It was all there on that piece of paper: He moved on.
I heard that he settled down, that he got a new girl, that all his dreams had come true. It seemed that it was all the papers talked about lately, his skyrocketing fame. And here I am. Stuck. Stuck in this apartment. Stuck in this job. Stuck in this gloom and fog of my mind. Sometimes the wine would clear my head just enough to get a grasp on the world again, but there was 2 empty bottles on the kitchen table and I still felt as if I was sitting in a cloud.
I hated feeling like this. I shouldn’t be this hung up on him. He left me. That was the cold truth.
I gave up so much to be with him; my home, my family.
It hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when we were so happy and he told me he loved me every hour. But those times had passed and I would never get those three years back.