Confessions from a broken heart …

There’s an emptiness that takes over your being. You’re not hungry. You’re not thirsty. There’s a void and it can’t be filled, despite the efforts to change that.

..that’s the problem, the one who filled this void is suddenly and permanently unavailable, you’re left struggling with this new reality.

You won’t be needing the gym or your usual dietary programs. Those pounds you’ve been struggling to lay off would melt off of you in a few days.

The days would seem longer. You’ll hate daylight because your hidden night lamentations would be sitting right on your face for everyone to see. Your sunshades can’t do much masking; from puffy eyes that have cried out its tear banks to swollen cheeks looking like “puff puff” dipped in ‘tear toppings’.

You’ll hate nights even more because the memories deem it the perfect time to haunt your thoughts.

Your productivity at work or school would depreciate. You wouldn’t need to try. Your concentration to work and normal human activities would be so lackadaisical.

You’ll have an unsolicited pact with insomnia. It’ll warm your bed, night and day, without permission and have you reliving every hurt.

Every song is one step towards a water works of tears. You’re always one lyric away from bursting into uncontrollable tears because the songwriter just had to use those words that currently explain how you feel.

You’ll read your conversations over and over again till you know them word for word, like your ABC’s, and for each read it’s fresh tears streaming down your cheeks on the same paths they had already thread.

You’ll pray for sleep but it’ll be so far away, like your gone lover. You’ll search for it but you won’t find.

Pictures would make you wanna scratch your eyes out in pain and videos would’ve you gasping for breathe. It’s like you’re dying but you’re not.

Each gift is a can of memories waiting to burst out more pain and hurt.

You’ll pray to God to make it stop; to make the hurt melt away but beware you’ll not hear a roaring voice from heaven saying “yes my child!”. You’ll hear silence, but it won’t mean God didn’t hear you.

You’ll cry so much it’ll become a normal routine, like breathing. You won’t even have to try. Your tears would attain a PhD in flowing as they please.

You’ll unconsciously develop a skill of staring into your phone. Woolgathering like never before. You’ll be waiting for a text or call that you know isn’t coming. You’ll be waiting for your lover, but you’ve none, it’s not real yet, so you wait; hoping that one text or call would wake you up from this nightmare but it won’t. You’re not dreaming after all. You’re single again.


But guess what? you’ll be alright.

Even when it seems the hurt would swallow you up, you’ll pull through.

Even when you can’t recognize yourself in the mirror from crying way too much, you’ll be alright.

You’ll be stronger.

The pain would make you stronger.

You’ll be wiser.

You’ll be smarter in choosing who next you’ll allow have this much power over you.

And you’ll be lief and grateful for it.


MysP

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