How many pieces of the broken glass can you pick?
Normally, my titles are not this long. But, I couldn’t think of one word to sum it up. Maybe I could think and actually find the word, or maybe I just don’t want to because this is exactly how I feel.
You know when everything seems so smooth, beautiful… near perfect. You don’t want it to end because this is what you have always wanted and now, you have it. But suddenly, out of the blues, everything just shatters into a million pieces and you are left wondering “where did it all go wrong?”.
That was how I felt when my first serious relationship came to an end. It’s funny because being a very observant and cautious person, I never saw the crack on the glass and how big it became day by day.
He hardly called. I understood because he was a med student and he needed the time. I wasn’t in the university yet so he was the only interesting thing I had going on. I would always call, he would pick sometimes, and we would talk for long hours. This went on for some months and suddenly, he stopped picking my calls. I would leave dozens of texts, messages on WhatsApp, I would even call his friends and they would say they hadn’t seen him. I felt he was busy but when it went on for two months, I knew something was wrong. So I called him with a friend’s number, and he picked!. “Oh! Babe! I’ll call you later. I’m kinda busy”, was what he said when I let him know it was me.
Well, he never picked my calls or calls I made from my friend’s phone. Lol!
This went on for three years. He would apologize for hurting me that way, I would forgive him, and he would do it again. I was already in the university in the second year of our relationship.
The third year was horrible. He forgot my birthday, forgot valentine, refused to pick my calls or reply my texts, refused me coming over to his school to see him. If he cheated, I never knew but when we broke up, I was more broken than I was when he started behaving shady.
That was when the crack became pieces of broken glass. I would always sit in front of my mirror and talk to myself, asking “how many pieces of this broken glass can you pick?”. I hardly ate (and I am a foodie!), I became thin, and I was beginning to get what I considered bad grades in school (like C’s and D’s).
Turned out I picked the ones I could and left the rest on the floor. I couldn’t pick them all because some where so tiny, I could hardly see them. Some where so bad that if I tried to pick them up, they would cut me. So I left them there and never looked back.
I won’t say I gave up on love just because of one heart break. Even though my heart was broken again after this, I still haven’t given up on love. I mean, why give up on something so beautiful and priceless?.
I know I will love again, probably get heart broken again and keep picking up the pieces. But when the love that will stay comes, I know I will congratulate myself for never giving up and picking those pieces of broken glass.
