It’s broken now; the promise I kept to myself.
I was broken; last night was the first time anyone has seen that side of me.
I’m still broken and I will always be broken; nothing can ever fix this huge whole in my heart that I was born with.
Nothing can mend a broken heart once it breaks. But she put the pieces back together. Not with words to stick like that of glue, not with actions to thread through skin to heal the wound, but like a sedative. The pain and temporary hatred of her presence pierced through me like a needle, then calmed me down, slowly but surely.
Everything was numb after some time. The voices in my head stopped. I couldn’t hear them tell me how much I hate myself for showing her my weakness, my soft spot, my Achilles’ heel. Everything became numb. I couldn’t feel my secret hate towards this cruel world. All I could see was darkness and a hint of light from somewhere, all I could hear was the sound of my quivering voice with colds to match, all I could feel was the pair of arms that held me as tight as they could. And then everything was just numb.
Maybe they’re wrong. Maybe some people are born to be strong for others, not just learn to be strong through experience. But being strong takes a toll on me. Putting on this persona is only good for an audience. And although I may break down, I will never let my walls down.
Last night I couldn’t breath. Not because I was crying my heart out and pouring down my feelings to an actual human being. But because I held my breath, for quite some time, consecutively. Sometimes I wish holding one’s breath could kill you but I guess God didn’t want death to be that reachable. I’m not suicidal, but I have thought about erasing my existence from this world. And I feel that when I hold my breath. It feels like for a few seconds the pain is gone, I can’t feel anything, and all I can think of is whether I should breathe already or see how long I can go without air.
I’m not suicidal, just broken.