My vision blurs as I sob big, ugly

My vision blurs as I sob big, ugly tears the entire drive home. I make it there in record time and tear through my apartment. The first thing I do is strip off my new red coat and stuff it in the trash can.
Something’s come up, his text said. Hell yeah, something came up! He’s apparently buying a house with a woman—a woman who looks like she’s been used as a punching bag, which I can only assume was during a session of rough sex.
I’m not even angry; I’m broken. Destroyed. A man I had fallen head over heels for is not who I thought he was. It was all some game. I paid him handsomely for his services, and that was all it was to him. A down payment on his future with another woman. The painful realization that I meant nothing to him slams into me, and I feel weak.
Grabbing my laptop, I delete my profile from the dating site, delete every stupid message I saved. I delete his texts, and then his number from my phone. It’s as though he never even existed. If only my aching heart could mirror that feeling.
I sink onto the couch and let the tears flow. I consider calling Julie, but the idea of admitting how foolish I’ve been doesn’t appeal to me. Of course I knew better than to fall for him, yet I did it anyway. I gave myself to him completely, in every sense of the word, but it was all for nothing. Now he’s done with me, and I feel lost. I don’t know what comes next.
As painful as it is, I can’t stop the memory of seeing him with that bruised and battered woman from replaying in my brain. I recall the careful way he was with her, the way his hand danced at her lower back, and she gazed up adoringly into his eyes as they spoke in hushed voices.
Not only did he lie about having a girlfriend, but he’s not at all who I thought he was. He’s violent. Brutal. Not at all the man I dreamed him to be.
Several hours later, I’ve had two glasses of wine and am soaking in a hot bath when my phone rings.
It’s Kirby.
I consider letting it go to voice mail; I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. But then I remember what this entire experiment was about. Taking charge of my future.
Mustering some enthusiasm, I answer. “Hi there,” I say, forcing a neutral tone.
“Hey, ladybug. I need a favor.” "I'm listening....

Hasil (Bahasa Indonesia) 1:

Visi saya mengaburkan seperti saya sob air mata besar, jelek seluruh perjalanan pulang. Aku membuat itu ada dalam catatan waktu dan air mata melalui apartemen saya. Hal pertama yang saya lakukan adalah menanggalkan mantel merah baru saya dan hal-hal di tempat sampah.Sesuatu telah datang, teksnya mengatakan. Neraka ya, sesuatu datang! Ia tampaknya membeli sebuah rumah dengan seorang wanita-wanita yang tampak seperti dia telah digunakan sebagai tas meninju, yang saya hanya bisa berasumsi ini selama sesi seks kasar.Aku tidak bahkan marah; Saya patah. Hancur. Seorang pria yang aku telah jatuh jungkir untuk adalah bukan yang saya pikir dia. Itu beberapa permainan. Aku membayarnya mahal untuk layanan nya, dan itu semua itu kepadanya. Uang muka depannya dengan wanita lain. Kesadaran menyakitkan bahwa saya berarti apa-apa kepadanya membanting ke saya, dan saya merasa lemah.Grabbing laptop saya, saya menghapus profil saya dari situs kencan, menghapus setiap pesan yang bodoh saya diselamatkan. Aku menghapus teks-teks itu, dan kemudian nomor dari ponsel saya. Ianya seolah-olah ia bahkan tidak pernah ada. Jika hanya hatiku sakit bisa cermin perasaan itu.Aku tenggelam ke sofa dan membiarkan air mata mengalir. Aku mempertimbangkan menelepon Julie, tetapi gagasan mengakui betapa bodoh aku sudah tidak menarik bagi saya. Tentu saja aku tahu lebih baik daripada jatuh untuknya, namun saya tetap melakukannya. Aku memberi diriku kepada-Nya sama sekali, dalam setiap arti kata, tapi itu semua untuk apa-apa. Sekarang ia dilakukan dengan saya, dan aku merasa tersesat. Aku tidak tahu apa yang datang berikutnya.As painful as it is, I can’t stop the memory of seeing him with that bruised and battered woman from replaying in my brain. I recall the careful way he was with her, the way his hand danced at her lower back, and she gazed up adoringly into his eyes as they spoke in hushed voices.Not only did he lie about having a girlfriend, but he’s not at all who I thought he was. He’s violent. Brutal. Not at all the man I dreamed him to be.Several hours later, I’ve had two glasses of wine and am soaking in a hot bath when my phone rings.It’s Kirby.I consider letting it go to voice mail; I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. But then I remember what this entire experiment was about. Taking charge of my future.Mustering some enthusiasm, I answer. “Hi there,” I say, forcing a neutral tone.“Hey, ladybug. I need a favor.” "I'm listening....