At 22 years old, I am experiencing my first, real heartbreak. My sister commented that I'm such a late bloomer. Yes, I accept it. I don't know if this is the best time to deal with this kind of thing, but I guess life deals you all kinds of things and they will never really happen when you expect them.
At first I wanted to keep it to myself. I wanted to tell no one of the slow, fiery pain. Least of all the people who I really needed to tell, or those who deserved to know. The first person I completely opened up to about it felt like a total stranger to me. I guess when you don't really care what someone thinks, it is then that you can expose what you are most ashamed of, and know that there is little to no chance of ever regretting the confession.
I tried to hide it, even from you. I told myself you shouldn't know how torn I am. But the haze of pain that has unrelentingly engulfed me these past few days slowly took on its own life. I couldn't hide it, so I finally turned to the people closest to me, and tried to draw on their strength. They have helped, in a way, but other people can only do so much for you, especially when it seems like you do not want to help yourself. I have come to the point wherein I keep wondering why my heart is still beating. I ask God to be the one to stop it completely, because I do not have the courage to do it myself. He seems to have other plans, because somehow, I am still functioning.
I wake up in the middle of the night. Always. Sometimes sobbing, sometimes tired of the nightmares, sometimes to a dull ache in my chest that does not seem to want to stop. Sometimes I find people who are willing to try and comfort me out here in cyberspace. They tell me of their own pain, that there is no escape, and that the only way to get past it is to ride it out til the end. My brother tells me I am in the 'Bargaining' stage. I am scared that I am still in 'Denial', which only means it will take even longer for me to finally feel normal again. Right now I don't know how to function. I try to be around people, just because I will be alone again for the rest of the week, and I guess I want to soak up the feeling of not being alone, even though as I lie on the sofa just listening to everyone else make their everyday noises, I still feel like I am in my own bubble, and nobody can get to me, nobody can help.
I don't know what to do anymore, which is why I've started writing about it. I need to let it out, but I cannot expect people to just be there for me throughout the night.
I walk around with a heavy weight, so heavy I feel like I am an ant, carrying something ten times my own weight. As I go throughout the day feeling this heavy, I keep wondering how people can still be moving about. What I have gone through is probably without a doubt one of the lesser sorrows any person has ever gone through. And yet, I feel like I just want the world to end. Most of the people around me, especially those who are older, have probably gone through hell and back in their own lifetimes, and I keep thinking, "How can they still be here, laughing, buying shoes, complaining about the weather, watching a movie?" Can human beings actually be this strong? Apparently, they are.
I do not know how to end this entry, or this pain for that matter. People tell me it will, on its own. I wish I had a remote so I can fast forward my life, but I guess the only way to learn life's lessons is through experience. And without experiencing this I would not have been complete.
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