Your heart is left to dry. How could you have hurt and cry this much that you are seeped from the vitality of life? How on earth could you have let yourself be tossed and turned by these wild matters of the heart and be so helpless and filled with melancholy?
You are a strong person but you have permitted someone to crush your spirit in exchange for the deceitful yet alluring claims of love. I could not blame you to be so credulous to believe in its power for it is like the attractive apple that tempted Eve, sweet and pleasing to senses.
That constellation feeling you get that puts you to cloud nine, those confections of words that perfected the potion that got you falling, the concoction of starry-eyed promises that make you stay. These all overwhelm you not until push comes to shove when you begin to see that it is not as sweet as you thought it can be.
Reality bites, my darling. Reality bites.
I have seen you cry but I have never seen you cried this much. Your sea of tears are evidence of deep sorrow that you could have drowned in it.
Woe to you.
I know you are tired and already weary of enduring the repercussions of love and my heart is with you. I admire your brevity to admit your emotional death — you are humble enough to admit your loss and defeat.
I know that insurmountable burden you cradle in your patient, loving, forgiving heart. I feel that it is too heavy a burden for you to carry. You do not deserve this. It left you weak and succumbing to survive. It left you at your most vulnerable and defenseless, almost about to raise the white flag.
But hush, and take it slowly. No, it is not suicide I am asking of you. I just want you to tender yourself and see that pains are healthy, that they are capable of resurrecting you to your optimum. Pain produces testing of virtue and courage. If you overcome this intense of a hurt, there will be no more hurt that you can hardly overcome in the future.
This is my battle cry to you: never resist and deny pain. Let pain work the valor in you. Let it be felt in your being like the blood rushing in your veins, like the air that flows in and out of your lungs. Let it penetrate the innermost of your soul and make you feel alive and human — capable of being ached, destroyed, and prostrate. After so then you will only see that you can master the austerity of pain, that nobody has the right to hurt you unless you permit them to do so.
I know your sorrows and your heart is dying but take heart to live for the fullness of joy ahead of you. Be courageous to deal with this, my dear. Though debilitating, pain is a proof that you are breathing and existing, and that you matter. Grieve in silence, meditate, and reflect but please do not wallow in miseries. Bathe yourself with positive thoughts.
And one last thing: as dangerous as it seems, please still believe in love.