Heartbroken and Forever Healing

"When you made a mistake, I showed you forgiveness. Yet when I made a mistake, you showed me the door."

Its 5 a.m.

Sadness feels both constant, and chaotic

Can I be honest with you?

I wanna wish spiteful things upon you. I wanna shout hateful words at you. I wanna hit things. Break something. Anything but to feel like THIS. But, I can’t. I can’t say or do any of those things because you aren’t the enemy. You didn’t play me, or use me. You just broke my heart. So what do I do? I bottle it. And I bury it. Suppress it. I pretend like it never existed. Like I’m doing okay. Like I’ve been okay this whole time. And it works, for the most part. I spend most of my days convinced I’m okay. But, of course, I’m not actually okay. I know that. It becomes clear when I start to slip just a little bit. Then I start having nightmares about you. Dreams where we’re together again and everything is back to normal; until they quickly change to horrifying visions of you breaking me all over again. And it goes on night after night until I just quit sleeping. Then it seeps into my days. Days spent thinking the nightmares are over; except, now they’ve turned into full blown panic attacks. At work, in class, at the store, practically everywhere. I see your face in passing and suddenly I can’t breath. I can’t think. The only thing I can do is run. Try to get away from whatever is causing these feelings. I’ve been heartbroken. I’ve been sad. I’ve been depressed even. But, it’s never been this bad. I’ve never turned to intoxication to fill the void. I’m not suicidal. I don’t want to die. But, I certainly don’t want to live like this. You didn’t say a word. A WORD. We haven’t spoken since it happened, and it’s eating me alive. So what do I do? I bottle it. I keep pushing it down, and drowning it at the bottom of a bottle and hope that I never have to face it.

I live for the little things.

I lied to you when I said it was nothing.

Quit being so hard on yourself because soon you’ll realize none of us really have a plan.

Its like an itch in the back of my mind. No, its more like an ugly monster clawing its way in. I just keep pushing it away, pushing and pushing, but its never truly gone. Sometimes I can forget, I can occupy myself for a short time before the claws start digging again. I start forgetting how to breathe, and each breath i force out becomes more and more shallow. It feels like my lungs are shriveled. I focus so hard on not suffocating in my own thoughts that i forget to push those claws back. It starts getting a voice. “Why did you do that?” “That was fucking stupid.” “You’re remarkably good at fucking things up!” Now I’m panicking. I can’t breathe anymore, my head is filled with these ugly thoughts that don’t seem to be my own, and I can’t raise my eyes anymore. All I can do is stare at my feet and wonder if the thoughts are real. “Am I really this horrible?” “What the fuck is wrong with me?” It’s so overwhelming I can’t look strangers in the eye anymore. I feel naked. Like they can see my ugly thoughts written all over my face. Like they can see straight to my core and see how much of a fuck up I am. It’s embarrassing. I’ve never liked self-harm, but now I understand. I need anything to focus on that’ll pull me away from it all. I feel the need to punch something just to make my knuckles bleed. I want to go out and kick a ball with every ounce of my being. I want to floor my gas pedal so at least the fear of hitting someone going 110 will pull me out of this hole. Im scared. It feels like I’m trapped in a well with no where to go and no one who can hear me. I feel like a prisoner in my own body. Like I’m spectating myself as I go through the motions of “living.” I hate it. I hate myself sometimes too. I hate that I can’t break this vicious cycle.