People romanticize falling in love. They talk about their first loves and how it was the best thing that has ever happened to them. They talk about the fall and how it was so wonderful and the view was amazing and how it felt to be holding their lovers hand throughout the entire fall. People talk about the falling. The good things about it.
People never talk about how hard you hit the ground when you finally crash.
They never mention the landing, and how right up until you crash into the side of a mountain, you’re a scolding hot ball of gas. That the flames immerse you into themselves right up until your collision with the ground breaks your entire body.
If someone had warned you about this, you’d have been more cautious. More loving. More understanding. A better partner. You would have made it you’re only goal, would have given yourself completely. But this time, you’d have been more careful. Wouldn’t have played pretend about your feelings, would have told them how you felt, how they made you feel, and how much they meant to you. But of course by the time you realized this, it was all too late.
Then comes the crying. You don’t ever really stop. Sometimes your mind gets a little distracted and you’re free for about ten minutes until you look at something that reminds you of them and you’re back to square one. Back to the bed, back to isolation, back to feeling numb as silent tears slowly trek down your cheeks.
Family will ask if you’re okay. This is normal.
Of course, they know you’re not, but they still ask anyways. You’ll respond with an “I’m fine” and they’ll go away for the time being. You’ll spend a few days like this. Maybe even a week or two. It should stop eventually, but sometimes people end up feeling like this for years. You hope and pray that this isn't the case for you, you hope that you'll be able to work things out before then. You'll also know that you're hope are too high.
Then, comes the numbness.
Complete, and utter numbness.
Isolation never felt so good. And this time, you don’t really care who knows it. Why should you? You’re miserable. You’re depressed. You’re deprived of what you love most in the world and instead of being bitter about it, you accept it for what it is. But with accepting, comes the true heart break.
Being numb was fine, being a crying mess was fine. It’s the accepting part that hurt the most. You’ve finally got it into your thick skull that they’re gone. They’re gone, and no matter what they say it’s your fault. You accept that when they say, “We really just need a break,” what they really mean is, “I’m sorry but I just can’t handle all of you. I can’t do this anymore, and I'm leaving.” Realizing this is not how you want to live your life but it’s how life has decided you would. You’re heart doesn’t stop hurting.
Your stomach doesn't stop hurting either. You haven't eaten in days. How could you? Food has lost all taste to you, so what's the point? You're not hungry for food, you just want them.
Then you have to see them again. You have to see them again, and you have to act like you’re alright. They won’t make eye contact with you. They won’t look in your direction. They don’t think of you the same way they used to. And you have to sit there. You have to sit there and endure all of this alone because they were the person you shared everything with. You have to restrain yourself from texting them and asking how their day is going, you have to fight back the urge to call them when you miss their voice. But you have to. You don’t want to turn into something that they hate. There is still a sliver in the slight chance for you two to fall back in love again. You want to hold onto this hope. You have to. You need to.
But you know, deep down in your broken heart, that there will never be a second time. A second chance. You fucked everything up. It’s all your fault.