I Don’t Want To Be Broken Hearted Anymore

It’s funny how heartbreak follows me. There are times when everything, the pain, the skipping of my heart, the nervous flutters in my stomach, feel so real like months haven’t passed by. As if I haven’t spent as much time as I have telling myself that I’m okay and that I’ve moved on.

I don’t know if it’s true at this point: If I’ve really moved on or if that’s something I tell myself to sleep better at night.

All I know for sure, is that my body still aches and I want to tell myself it’s a combination of stress from my job and family, but it’s because you left in such a destructive fashion, shattering my heart into a million pieces of beautiful sea glass.

You ask yourself what about being broken-hearted is beautiful and it’s being a train wreck people can’t take their eyes off of. It’s a soft glow of sadness, a mix of thoughts and emotions and memories racing through your entire body at a million miles an hour, yet being cold to the touch. It’s wondering how all of that is possible, how it all happens at the same time and how one doesn’t implode from wanting it all to end.

There was a time in which I wanted to feel nothing. Even more than I wanted happiness and hope. These memories come in flashes back to me and now, I want nothing more than to forget you ever happened because this sorrow that follows me is exhausting.

I can’t get rid of the feeling that something is missing and I can’t escape the pain that loving you came with. I just wish I knew how to manage staying alive when everything inside me has given up. I wish I knew the trick to moving on even when the memories try to pull you back in. I want to be okay.

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