A Time of Heartbreak

My heart is broken. How do you begin telling the story that leads up to that? I never knew that having your heart broken causes physical pain, but I know that my heart felt like it was going to come out of my chest, broken through by the sobs that wracked my body. I never knew that heartbreak was to feel so much, and at the same time feel as if everything inside you just died.

Heartbreak is that romanticised word that leaves you wailing, clawing at the sheets in desperation to escape the pain, wishing you could pull your own heart and bury it in the ground so the screaming will be silenced. Screaming. Screams of agony as you see your hopes and dreams of a life crumble away to dust. Heartbreak is hearing the own voice you sob with become unfamiliar to your own ears because you can't recognize a cry of that much pain. Heartbreak is being wrapped in your mother's arms, barely able to stand with that unfamiliar voice wailing that it hurts everywhere.

How does a body hold together? How does it stay intact when your heart is having pieces of itself snapped off? How can a body not rip, tear, shatter, and shred itself apart? And who can explain the numbness of the soul that follows after the sobs have ended? A numbness inside that somehow still leaks tears, and leaves you trapped in your own mind chasing memories. Who can know such disconnect from reality as you shut yourself inside, and find yourself listless, numb. Yet, that broken heart still lives as evident from the pain that washes over it countless times and constricts in a feeble attempt to hide from itself. Who can understand except those who have already experienced it?

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The night of the heartbreak a dear friend wrapped me up in this arms, and with my head tucked under his chin, arms wrapped around me, all I felt was that I didn't fit. It was foreign. It was unfamiliar. I wasn't the perfect fit in those arms because it wasn't him. How can you ever replace that place where no two bodies ever fit together more perfectly? I am locked away from that comfort, and I feel lost without it. How does anything compare to that comfort of a friend, the excitement of a lover, and the strength of a protector?

Where is my protector now? Where is this man who made me feel so safe, who cannot protect me from himself? Somehow, even at this end, I still thought he might fight for me. Some part of me wishes he would defy my requests and fight for me, even though I know this won't happen. Why would he fight now, when he would not fight against his own selfish desires for what he already had? If he never fought before, why would he fight now? I did not mean enough to him. His affection and love for me did not have a big enough place in his heart. I did not have a big enough place in his heart. For him to give in, even when he knew what the consequences would be, showed me that I am not important enough to him. I hold not enough affection in his heart.

A woman, who is loved by a man, is unknowingly to inspire him to be better. If I have not inspired him to be more, then I have failed. Since I obviously do not motivate him to be more, then I am not the right woman for him.

I feel betrayed. I feel cheated, and played a fool. The one thing I ever asked of him he would not do. He would not fight. He did not care enough to.

This man, this man who was the only one to have my heart, to have my love enough that I was willing to stay in this place, if it only meant I could be with him. This man who was the only one I ever wanted to marry. This man who was to be the only one I gave myself to physically. The only one I was to follow, take his name, support, and have a home with. He was the only one that I was willing to set aside my dreams for if it meant a life by his side. This man who claimed he loved me, who claimed I was the woman he wanted to marry, loved one part of his life more than me. He has lost me as a consequence, but he took my heart with him. What pieces I have left are shattered. How do I ever begin the task of finding those pieces, and putting them back together? How do you mend after being so broken?

He has broken me. I ache for his arms around me, to be wrapped in him wholly and to hear him tell me it will be alright. But, his are the arms I cannot run into. His is the one voice who cannot offer me comfort. He is the one thing I want and the only thing I cannot have, held off by necessity.