Laia García is a writer and sometimes a stylist. She knows it’s a wild combination. 

Post-Breakup, Pre-Japan

2:18am – My Bed

I wake up. I have already forgotten what I was dreaming, which means at least it was a normal dream. I am going back to sleep. There is nothing in this world for me.

5:43am – My Bed

I wake up again. The birds are chirping. It is grey out, it’s beautiful but I am begging the sun will come up still. I have nothing to do, awake this early, so I go back to bed.

7:34am – My Bed

It’s 7:30, what gives? The world doesn’t want to let me sleep in.

8:27am – My Bed

Ok, I guess I will wake up. I remember fragments of my dreams; seeing lots of sharks in the water from above, but I don’t remember being on an airplane, waiting in line to meet 2 Chainz. I don’t know what any of this means. I am going to lay in bed for a bit until my eyes fully open.

8:32am – My Bed

I am surprised that Kitty did not sleep with me last night, which is very rare. Even more surprising is the fact that my bedroom door was closed all night and she did not scratch at it for me to let her in. I wonder if she’s ok.

9:40am – My Bed

Ok, it’s almost 10, I guess I should get out of bed. I wonder if I will make it to that yoga class at 11 like I wanted to? Maybe not. I really needed to sleep today tho, I will not be mad at myself if I miss this one.

9:44am – The Bathroom

While I pee, I look through Instagram. Earlier this week, I posted a picture of Vanessa Williams singing at an event I attended (she sang “Colors of the Wind” and it was weird, I remembered a lot of the lyrics and remember the parts in the song where there were animal sounds, like “you think the only people who are people *bear growl* are the people who look and think like you”) and now I have a slew of new middle eastern followers. I guess she must be really big over there.

10:03am – The Bathroom

While doing my morning routine in the bathroom, I decide that I will just go straight to yoga. I will feel horrible if I don’t make it, plus what am I’m gonna do if I don’t go, piss around the internet? I don’t need that right now. I recently broke up with my boyfriend and have been trying to come up with a new routine for the weekends, last week I decided that yoga* would be one of the things I do on my weekends now.

*Actually, the closest studio to my house that doesn’t seem too hippie-dippy is a hot yoga studio. So I do hot yoga now. I don’t know who I am anymore.

10:22am – My staircase

As I leave my apartment to go to yoga, I realized Kitty spent the whole night out in the hallway. I am a terrible mother.

10:34am – 5th Avenue

I think about how much my life has changed in just a few weeks.

12:44pm – 5th Avenue

Leaving yoga class, the second one I’ve ever taken, I feel lighter. *Barf* but it’s true. I am also the sweatiest I have ever been. I almost cried in class, which felt like a good thing. I am sweating out the toxins in my body, and maybe I am crying out the heartbreak too. It’s all the same. Liquid, water, feelings, whatever.

I was always anti-yoga and even more anti-HOT yoga (why would anyone put themselves through that?), but I need to change my body and I need to be aware that I am changing my body. Like a punishment. Or maybe it’s just tough love. Yes, tough love.

1:13pm – The Kitchen

On my way home from class I stop at the grocery store and buy sliced pineapple and cantaloupe. I get home and sit at the table and I eat the pineapple and I left the juices drip over my face and into my chest and it feels good. Like I am indulging myself in something good.

1:27pm – The Kitchen

I haven’t been online yet and that feels like some sort of triumph. I read a great poem by Sarah Jean Alexander last night that I keep thinking about.

Screen Shot 2015-05-10 at 1.28.37 PM

The worst part of not being online is that I only have my thoughts, and my thoughts are pretty sad these days. Yesterday it hit me that perhaps I am getting used to not having him around, and that broke my heart all over again.

I am covered in sweat and pineapple juice so I am going to take a shower. There’s much to do today to spend it wallowing in self pity.

1:38pm – The Bathroom

Texting with my friend who is also going through a breakup. She asks me what music I’ve been listening to. I say, “I haven’t rly done Fiona // I just don’t know where to start // This feels like too real life for Fiona // I have no tools to deal with reality is what I feel”

I think about what I just typed. “I have no tools to deal with reality,” and I realize that it’s true.

2:24pm – The Kitchen

In the shower, I thoroughly wash my hair and my face and I shave my legs. I want to be clean from everything. Afterwards, I put on a face mask, a robe that my mom brought me from Japan, and I put together my meal. I haven’t been cooking so much because cooking reminds me of him. I make miso noodles (microwaveable) and pork & ginger wontons (frozen, microwaveable). It’s pretty much all I ate lately, along with those refrigerated ready-made pastas (Buitoni). It’s easy, I guess.

My friend Petra emails me some pictures we worked on together a few weeks ago. They are so fucking beautiful and they bring my life and for a few minutes everything seems to be perfect.

I call the local pharmacy and renew my prescription for my every-day inhaler. Every time I buy it it goes up in price, it’s probably $150 now and when I started using it two years ago it was about $115, I think. I’m glad I can afford it now, it wasn’t always the case. Anyways, the whole pharmaceutical complex or whatever is massively fucked.

(lol at “pharmaceutical complex’)

3:09pm – The Kitchen

I have completely spaced out while eating and have to ask myself, “wait, did I just smoke weed?” I didn’t.

I hate myself for anxiously awaiting a text from him. I’ve moved on I think, a little. But I think I don’t know what to think. We still keep in touch and have seen each other for lunch or dinner a few times since.

3:24pm – My Room

I put on real clothes and I head out to pick up my laundry. I will probably take a nap when I get back.

I will not be the one to text first. (LIKE IT EVEN MATTERS!)

3:39pm – My Room

I lay in bed after picking up my laundry, I realize I am so thirsty. I need to drink all the water.

The “weekend*” has become so weird. Like wanting to write and staring at a blank document the whole time. I tri to fill it with things but I can’t help thinking how much funner those things, any things, all things, would be with him instead. As I walked back from the Laundromat, a car blasting reggaeton drove by, and all I could think about was driving around Puerto Rico with him, and how happy and at ease I felt. It truly never felt like “home” until he was there with me. I wonder if it will feel like home again.

*Said in lady from Downtown Abbey voice – “what is the wh-ee-k-ehn-d”?

5:06pm – My Room

Wake up from nap. Call the pharmacy to see the whereabouts of my inhaler.

5:15pm – The Kitchen

They weren’t able to give me any information over the phone but as I hang up the phone the delivery arrives. The place is always a mess and they never know what’s going on but it’s a neighborhood place so I like to support them.

I cave and I text him. I just want to know the rest of my day (we have dinner plans tonight).

5:46pm – The Kitchen

I look at twitter for the first time. I have a headache from yoga and also I am sneezing. These are all unrelated things, I am sure.

5:57pm – The Kitchen

There’s nothing happening n the internet, so I decide it’s the perfect time to do a little work. Linda Evangelista turns 50 on Sunday and someone has to write a post to celebrate it, I guess. I put on Chopped while I work. All the chefs are teenagers.

While working, and watching Chopped, I finish the Costco*-sized bowl of “mantecaditos” aka my favorite cookies, that my roommate’s mom brought me from Puerto Rico. Honestly, it had to be done.

*The only reason why “Costco” is currently in my vocabulary is because of that Kris Jenner interview in the Times “Costco is my massage,” I think she says, which like, what does that even mean?


I really don’t want to write this Linda Evangelista thing! I make more wontons.

7:41pm – The Kitchen

Linda is done, I start getting ready for dinner.

We are meeting at our favorite spot in my neighborhood, the place where he taught me how to eat oysters (which seems like a weird place to learn how to eat oysters, in Brookyln). I am wearing my tightest jeans that most enhance my butt. I hold no hope of us getting back together, but I reserve the right to show off my butt as much as I want.

8:02pm – My Room

I change into a black skirt because the jeans are really tight and I don’t really feel like dealing with that tonight.

8:10pm – My Kitchen

I watch some more Chopped while waiting for the right time to leave my place. I never want to get there first. I haven’t decided what the point of our dinners is, but in the meantime, I have to say I enjoy his company. What a dumb thing to say; of course I enjoy his company! How could something so perfect not be right?

8:47pm – Sidecar

When I got to the restaurant he was already there, at a table and not the bar where we usually sit. It’s the same table we sat at the first time we came to the restaurant, I wonder if he remembers? We always split an order of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and kale, but I don’t think I can go back to that today. I order my usual drink, a “femme fatale,” and the steak and fries instead.

9:44pm – Sidecar

In the middle of dinner I say “we’re so weird,” and then we hold hands on the table for a minute. I said it because it’s true. I still don’t know the point of anything. My steak is alright but I wish I had ordered the fried chicken. The fried chicken is the best thing at this restaurant.

9:56pm – Sidecar

Almost cry while talking about what’s going to happen when starts seeing someone new. “I hate this conversation,” I say, even though I brought it up. “Me too,” he says. WHAT AM I DOING

10:02pm – Sidecar

No, not baby anymore

if I need you I’ll just use your simple name

only kisses on the cheek from now on

and in a little while we’ll only have to wave.

10:19pm – Sidecar

I realize (a little too late) I am ill-prepared, mentally, for this dinner.

10:45pm – Sidecar

I still haven’t told my family, how long can I go without them knowing?

Will they find out through this?

10:55pm – Sidecar

He stands up to go to the bathroom and I almost start crying again. What is wrong with me? I just realized that Tuesday makes one month of our break-up.

11:20pm – My Room

I am home. In bed. I cried when we said goodbye, hugged so tight. Right as he told me I smelled expensive (wearing the Dries Van Noten perfume he gave me). I didn’t want to cry but I couldn’t help it. “I don’t want to be this person,” I said, and he said “me neither.”

I am going to bed because I don’t want to feel any more things tonight. I am leaving for Japan tomorrow and I’m imagining that somehow this trip will cure me from love, will suddenly turn me into Elaine, will make me not feel things, or make me feel less. I have not packed yet.

“Maybe he will come out of this loving me” but of course he won’t. I am going to sleep because I don’t want to feel any more. I will pack in the morning. Everything hurts. Everything is wrong. “Maybe he will come out of this loving me,” but it’s not the love I need, it’s the desire. Maybe he will come out of this wanting me, but of course he won’t. Kitty is in heat. Her meows like my cries, except I know how to keep it down for the neighbors. Never fall in love, I will never fall in love again, I don’t believe in love.