the first time you broke my heart



9/11/16

In these moments of sadness, you look at the people around you, how oblivious they are to your shattered broken heart. They're people who care. They're people who love you. They're people who would be there for you if you poured your pain out to them. They would. They would be there.

But why do you want to be another burden in their lives? Why do you want to add to their problems? And what if they're only there because they feel obligated to be? Because you expect them to be? I don't know how to live with that. And with petty things like broken hearts that didn't even have the right to be whole in the first place, it would sound pathetic. And they would either show you how ridiculous it was, or pretend to understand. Because they didn't feel it.

They didn't feel that inescapable moment of pain, that moment of not knowing where to project that pain to. That moment when you can't cry, but that pain still exists. It's just sitting there in your heart, or maybe in your chest, or somewhere in your stomach. Why do we feel it there? How do we make it go away? How do you run away from something that's in you, that can follow you to the ends of the Earth?

Why do we keep letting ourselves get hurt? Why do we hurt ourselves like that? With hope and expectations and wonder. I hate myself. And I hate that i hate myself.

I just want to feel better. I am so tired. I just want to go back to the moment i let my guard down, the moment i had let the walls crumble. I want to hold the bricks in place, every little piece. I want to warn the fragile flesh within those walls that they will bleed, and it is not worth it.

She didn't know when sleep had finally come, but the few seconds of temporary peace she had felt when she woke up the next morning, the temporary moment when she couldn't remember that she had cried for hours last night, had brought her a breath of hope. That she can be okay. 

It felt heavy to get out of bed, to get ready for a new day. It felt difficult to look forward to anything or anyone. It felt tiring to know she was going to have to put on her cheery, bubbly personality and show the world her strength.


But she will do it. She has to.

– the night you broke my heart the first time

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if a house is made from a thousand bricks, then let me be one of those bricks, to help keep the house together, to make a significant difference.

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Kamalia has read 15 books toward her goal of 50 books.
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