In Times of Hurt

"There are those hearts, reader, that never mend again once they are broken. Or if they do mend, they heal themselves in a crooked and lopsided way, as if sewn together by a careless craftsman." - The Tale of Despereaux

Hearts break, and people fall. Of course, the one that has had their heart broken are the ones that fall so quickly. Maybe it's because of an attachment, or maybe it's just because of they way they looked when doing it. When a person says they're sorry, they usually show some sort of emotion, along the lines of sadness, regret... But when a person shows nothing... That's when it hurts the most.
And then they try to pass off their confusion and lack of sympathy as you trying to blame them. Even though you should, but you won't. They get defensive and tell you that you should not be telling them what they are and are not. But it's how you felt. They told you how they felt, so why can you not tell them your side? Yes it hurts, but everything hurts. If it was a day, a week, a month, a year... They all hurt.
And then... not knowing what to say... Hurts most of all. What do you do? Stay friends? Become enemies? Maybe neither. Your head tells you to hate them, but your heart tells you otherwise. So which do you listen to? Head, or heart? In times like these, in hurt times, it's hard to choose which one to listen to.
But you're tired of all this. You're tired of hurt, pain, loneliness, regret... You're tired of not sleeping, of the guilt, of the heartbreak.... And you don't want to deal with it anymore, but it's life and it's one of many things to go wrong. To not go according to plan. You've shed your tears, but at points in time, they come back.
So for the night, you will sit on the edge of your roof and ignore the phone that sits beside you, teetering back and fourth, wondering what would happen if you teetered just a little too far forward...

Sorry

What do you call something that makes your heart beat so fast and then skips more than a few beats? Like a sprinter that tripped and fell. What do you call something that gives you a nervous pang that shoots from your heart, down your arm and up your thumb? What do you call something that gives your stomach so many butterflies, you have to apologize to it for them all? What do you call something that makes your knees weak each time their gaze meets yours?
And it makes you cry when you think about its end and that the feeling wasn't returned to you. But what do you suppose it was called? You knew it had a name for it, but you couldn't figure out what it was. Even after they made it painfully clear that it wasn't returned, you still felt it.
Even after the tears and the collapse to the ground.
If you could go back in time, you would do thing differently, trying to make them stay a little longer, or make the blow a little less painful to hear. You could have prepared yourself mentally, to soften the blow.
You can tell yourself that it was fine, and not their fault, but a part of you wants to know what the exact reason was. There was more to it. You always felt like they did deserve someone better, so if it made them happy, then you would act happy also. As much as you want to cry and let them know how hurt you were, you won't. You won't lead on that you just want to stay in bed all day, not do anything but think about what happened and think about the better times, even though your mind would replay that ending over and over again.
You knew that it was a part of life, and it's not going to be the last time, but you want it to be. They would still be there, you knew that, but it also made it worse. You would see them and remember what it was like to call them your own. But you had to act strong and like nothing happened so that they would never see you weak, and know how much they hurt you. How much they made you cry and collapse on the ground.
It would be a long road to recovery, but it was a road you had to take to start enjoying the things you did before. After everything you couldn't sleep, you lost your appetite, and you didn't enjoy anything that made you happy before. You looked at the things that were there: the pen and paper, the belt and uniform, the photo album.... and you felt nothing but sick.
But what could you do but let time pass and see where it took you? Even though every time you tried to take a breath you were already choking, and you tried to break something that was already broken.... Nothing helped. Time would heal the wounds, and it would leave a scar like everything else that hurt.
You would hold your head high after a few days, laugh it off and smile again. You would enjoy the things you used to in time, and forget about the day that it all ended. But you would never forget. You would keep it in the back of your mind in a box with all the amazing memories that time gave you. You'd only open that box in private just in case it gave you a point of weakness you didn't want anyone else to see.
In time only. In time.
Live and let live, or live and let die? Which one was it? You were angry, but you were sad. There was nothing you could do to change their feeling, and you wouldn't blame them. You couldn't.
The tears would still come and so would the knees that would give out each time the ending played in your mind. Every time, without fail. Every time you see them, it would be torture, but in time everything would be alright. The time would be a while and you knew that.
All you want to say, is "I'm sorry" because you were. You weren't special or "one-of-a-kind" and you wish you were.
A part of you wanted them to see you collapse on the ground in tears, but the other half wouldn't let you because it would make them fee worse, and you cared about them too much. You wanted them to be happy, even if it meant that you couldn't be with them.