People think they know you. They think they know how you’re handling a situation. But the truth is, no one knows. No one knows what happens after you leave them, when you’re lying in bed or sitting over your breakfast alone and all you want to do is cry or scream. They don’t know what’s going on inside your head – the mind-numbing cocktail of anger and sadness and guilt. This isn’t their fault. They just don’t know. And so they pretend and they say you’re doing great when you’re really not. And this makes everyone feel better. Everybody but you.
What's a heartbreak?
To me heartbreak is waking up at 4am at night...barely breathing, a quench of air...solidified in your throat. Trying to make meaning of unknown. Hoping that pain would be so much, so damn much that it kills you then and there. Wishing for death to come in a disguise because I'm a coward. A coward to end his own life.
This is Dark. This period is called that dark period where I lost me. Simply Me.
To me heartbreak is lying on bathroom floor with water oozing over you.... and you crying out loud...giving away silent screams, letting your tears blend in water. Hoping no-one would notice your red eyes or glum face.
To me heartbreak is being courageous in front of your parents, trying to put a fake smile and saying, 'yes ma, I am good', and failing miserably at that. Trying to somehow work through your day, trying to tire yourself so much.... that at the end of day, sleep would be kind enough to come.
But, who's to be true to you? when whole world seems nothing worth looking for....how can I wish for something so kind happen to me? How would it let you be good and harmonious.You should feel this pain. You should wish for death for every breath you take and God be so unkind to you that it doesn't gives you even that. I wish with every moment I live. I sometimes wish I didn't had anyone to cry over for me. Burden of those tears is too much to carry.
To me heartbreak is breaking bread with your parents and when alone hoping it would throw out. Because comfort, extravagance is something you are not worthy of.
This is fault with a computer letter of thoughts. Tears you shed while writing letter never wet your paper.
These are simply silent confessions to an uncaring world. In a hope, that someone would see this. Someone would notice how pathetic my life is. How much more pathetic I wish to be.
This is the same heart she once loved more than her heart. This is the same heart that she once cared for and broke her heartfelt wishes for the same. This is the same heart. This was the same heart.
*pain*
The main problem with life is hope. Hope kills.
