Some days it’s hard to put on a pretty face.
Tears welling up in my eyes make the mascara goopy instead of crisp and thick, sloppy smears pool at the corners as I attempt to apply it. “Gotta pull it together, pretty girl,” my voice speaks to the reflection in the mirror. “You have to take your daughter to the doctor and help your husband host a lunch meeting.”
Why can’t I summon the will to live right now? Sometimes there are days when all I can say is “I’m sorry.”