So today was filled with lots of working and school work. Nothing really happened to make a statement. But I am throwing out an essay I wrote a while ago, and lots of my friends said that it helps a lot. So, I thought I might post it for you guys…
Falling Out of Love
Fuck. What a wonderful word in my opinion. Fuck every chick flick I watched that ended happy. Fuck my boyfriend for breaking up with me. Fuck him for leaving me when he said he could never let me go. Fuck the girl that thinks my business is her number one priority. Fuck the fact that I look like complete shit right now. Fuck every author that decided to make every ending fucking happy. Man, just fuck.
Getting your heart broken feels like a part of you died, like a part of you is missing now, and life seems pointless. You choose to hide in the isolation of your room, attempting to sleep, but only being surround with thoughts of the nostalgia memories of the past. You dream of ways to get back to the way things used to be, but you are mistaken to the truth of the reality. You begin to reenact conversations where you smack the guy in the face, or you tell him off, or maybe even get back together, but yet, it’s still only an imagination. Your appetite ceases to exist, unlike the movies where girls devour a tub of ice cream to hide the pain within. Sadly, the thought of food makes your stomach toss and turn. Honestly, crying is the only cure for a little relief. And all you can say is, “Fuck my life”.
Falling in love is easy. You are blinded by everything else in life. Money? No, you spend every cent you have on that person. Time? Not enough of it, you want to spend every second you have. Work becomes a drag. You sneak out at night just to get one more kiss, or hug in. School? Such a hassle when all you want to do is make out with my boyfriend under the stars, in the hot tub, in the kitchen, everywhere. Every one of their flaws seems to make them more perfect. But now when you have to fall out of love? It seems impossible. You are living off a sense of hope, driven by faith alone, and protruding memories of the past.
I force myself out of bed, and call my hair salon and make an appointment, order a dress online a size down, paint my nails bright colors, shave my legs, scrub my feet, and lastly, go and buy a new scent of perfume. You create a whole new you, but never for once changing who you are and feel inside. That must remain the same, or you will never get over the break up. Because when you look back at things, love is a magical thing. It makes you the happiest you could possibly be. And even though your chest feels heavy and you feel like your life is crashing down on you, in the end you still strive to have that feeling back. Yes, losing your heart’s desire is tragic. But gaining your heart’s desire? That’s all you can hope for. This year I wished for love, to immerse myself in someone else and to wake a heart long afraid to feel. My wish was granted. And if having that is tragic, then give me tragedy because I wouldn’t give it back for the world. I fell in love, but now it time to search for new love, a stronger one. I am just one step closer. So if I could would I go back and change it and not feel this pain, would I? Fuck no.