Breakup

One of my best friends recently stopped talking to me without explanation.  We “brokeup,” meaning that she took a look at all of my good and bad qualities and all of the good times we have shared over the years and decided she’ll have better luck elsewhere.  I remember when a dude did that to me.  On that occasion I wrote this: 

“I feel throbbing sensations in my calves, in my hair. My heart is plastic melting on a stove, the putrid smell, it is dripping through my ribcage and pooling at my toes; my whole being is bearing down upon this disgusting heart! Sloshing around down there with every step I feel my heart banging up against the walls of my body.  I can’t breath, I can’t speak this feeling, I have to write it. My soul is crying, my heart is filled with a faithless anger I can’t debate. I want to tell my heart how wrong it is but it plugged its valves to me. When it hazards to open them, I try again to talk my heart out of this insanity. It has no choice but to close itself and become backed up, ready to burst. My blood pressure is rocketing upward, tears pour out of my skin, stress etching deep lines into my young complexion. The pressure forces the emergency exits to open and water pours from the suspecting locations, my eyes mainly. He isn’t dead and I wish he were, not because I hate him but because the thought of seeing him again would break me even more than I am broken now.  I thought of him finding someone else… I ask myself, “would you rather be miserable for the rest of your life, or see him make someone else miserable?”  You see the problem, it’s best if he did die. It is a wonder no one dies from heartbreak and that people are willing to risk a broken heart more than once. Is any person worth this? Lord please spare my heart. Don’t leave me with these dripping remnants. I can’t focus, I can’t do anything.  There is so much power in this emptiness. Don’t leave me here like a little girl sucking her thumb underneath her bed.”

Gosh break-ups bring out quite a poetic side don’t they?  Regarding my friend, I feel a shadow of this internal drama. The most effective way I find to get over a breakup is to act as if the person has died.  The problem arises when you bump into each other or when they won’t stop creepily visiting your blog and peaking into your life on Instagram.  The internet prevents any hope of finality in a breakup because on there, no one dies.

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