The Bedlam of Heartbreak

Dear reader, Today, in all essence and even textbook definition of the word, I am heartbroken. I write this hopes I can evoke what I feel into something beautiful, but nothing is beautiful in heartbreak. It is violent, it is invasive, and it is powerful. It forces you to question your sense of being. It allows you to delve deep within yourself and truly question if your effort was enough. Will it ever be enough? Today, I linger in a love-lost relationship. He said to me, "I love you, but I am not in love with you." In those eleven words, I was broken. In an immature, hesitant and painful fashion, I was shattered into a sobbing mess. I let myself wait for something that will, even though I knew it won't. I've watched someone I adore lose his flame. The spark in his eyes is gone. The excitement in his tone is erased. The time we had together was minimal, stagnant and now I know why. Today, I realize myself as a fool; but I refuse to wallow in self-pity. At least, I tell myself that. Reader, it is so difficult. It is so difficult to find the words to explain the loss and labyrinth my mind twists itself to. I want to stay positive, and I want to hope for something more in a partnership I've grown to love with my entire soul-- a balance that I would have proudly cultivated as my own. But now, it is embarrassing. I feel ashamed to love so hard. The world does not care for how loud I speak my mind, for how boisterous I become when I see him. The world does not care for my heartbreak. I will scream, and I will fight for what I feel like so many others do. I want to hope for a genuine future. I imagined my life with him. I introduced him to crevices the earth did not dare to show, and he was my nightingale song that brought me peace when static would erode my mind. I never believed in wholesome love until I met him. In a string of flings in effort to find myself, the feeling of togetherness with him is something beyond what I knew. Reader, I know I have to let go. As I know deep within my core, I deserve better. But, what if better does not exist? There are seven billion people in this world, and yet he is my "one." I know I can Google myself an artificial answer, or I can heed advice from my elders, but I will be so tangled in my own distress, it will go to waste. I have become so tired of looking. For this time, I felt like I found. I found something precious, irreplaceable and so sweet. It was a romance I never knew I craved. It was an experience that drove me to highs and to lows. I have so much hope for this flower that I've bloomed. I sit and wonder, "What if I'm overreacting?" What if he truly does love me, but he has yet learned how to express it? Reader, I know different love languages exist. Do they materialize simply to cope, or are they real? Do I wait and face disappointment, or do I continue to search for light in my world? Do I believe that his love language is different from my own, and do I hope that one day we will twine ourselves to speak the same tongue? Or do I leave? I can pull my warmth from him. I can grab at what is left of my being from him. I will tell him, "You do not love me like I deserve to be loved." I will leave him with the knowledge he has hurt me. He will be deprived of my brilliance and my love. I used to be his world, too. He is still mine. I speak bitterly of what can be, or how it should be. But, reader, I love him. My ultimatum is reduced to words I will never produce. I am so scared of a future without him. I am so excited for his own path; with or without me, I know he will be excellent. What is left of me is what I fear. I will only be memories of us. I will not remember who I was before. I will be terrified of a potential love in the future, for the frames and woodwork that built this one are raw and dear to my heart, I cannot be softened again. I am so vulnerable, reader. I so desperately want an answer. I want a solution. I want him to tell me, "I love you, I'm sorry." I want to feel whole again. I want to be happy. I want him to be happy. Can he be happy with me? I know I cannot look at him the same way. His words told a billion stories I cannot replicate. They etched a hole into the powerful woman I thought I was becoming. They set me back a lifetime of lessons, a library of self-help books and an armada of therapy. I will question my worth again, and again, and again. Reader, is heartbreak always so painful? Reader, today I am heartbroken. Tomorrow I will be heartbroken, and the days forward I will continue to rummage through the shambles of what could have been, and what will be. Today I tell myself, "I refuse to minimize my feelings of anguish for the sake of someone else. No more will I question my worth. No more will I cry over what will be lost, but what is lost. I refuse to bind myself to something less than what I deserve." I sit, and I wait. I know that this will pass. I hope this will pass. Best wishes, Erica Diems

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