How To Stop Telling Yourself He’s The One, When He’s Just Messing With Your Heart

Jeremy Bishop

It’s a cold, harsh world, you’re telling yourself now. You’re bracing your heart to not sink in your glass as friends hold your hand and try to comfort you once again.

He doesn’t love me enough, you muse, with sadness so crisp that it could turn tears into snowflakes.

I gave so much, but he never reciprocated, you yearn, blaming yourself for not having done enough.

You hold your head in your two palms with deceit, while staggering pain infuses your body.

How could I leave him, after all this time? You know you have to part ways with this person you once saw as your forever.

He was never there for me, a tiny thought finds its way off your lips, and you still melt in your chair as anticipation builds up in your body, hoping one last time this shouldn’t be the end, because if it’s the end you won’t be able to survive it.

But picture this:

At the end of a depleting romance that makes you want to scream your gut and dismember into thin air, you’ll still find fuel.

Your instincts will kick back into motion. Your blood will keep on pumping.

Your sadness will fall into place just like sand falls back on the bottom of an hourglass, just like stones sink deep in a pond.

You shouldn’t have to carry this burden for as long as you live, even though right away you’ll feel trapped in consuming, unbearable pain and loss.

There’s a plethora of feelings you’ll experience as you start telling yourself he’s not the one. He’s gonna be just the one who didn’t stand up tall enough to hold your colour.

You think now he’ll be remembered as the one who got away, but, the truth is, months in your recovery, you will know he was simply just a waste of film.

You’ll wake up, one day, without the sour aftertaste of his wasted sweet deceiving words on your tongue, without the burden of his absence on the left side of your mattress, without the burning stain of his touch on your skin.

Coffee will taste better suddenly. Your smile will find a way to light up your face again. Your hair will bounce in the air as you cycle in spring through the city and you’ll marvel once again at the simple beauty of blooming trees and perfumed magnolias.

You’ll become the life of the party again, or at least of your own party. Friends, old and new, will re-emerge, and you will finally know how they’ve been there all along, even when they weren’t physically with you.

You will cry, perhaps, more out of an overwhelming feeling of pure joy.

The world doesn’t stop moving at the cease of a romantic affair. Your heart won’t stop beating while understanding you two were not meant for each other. Love won’t stop flowing inside and out your beating heart, but love will continue to mesmerize you and lure you for the rest of your given days.

You are a bird now.

Life will continue to be beautiful, strange, and overwhelmingly passionate, as you spread your wings and chant your bitter sweet symphony.

Life will continue to inject your heart with youth, lust and emotion.

You are a bird now.

You are free.

You are incredible.

And you, baby girl, are everlasting. TC mark

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