Suddenly I find myself in an awkward middle-ground where I can breathe, yet my world is just completely different and out of sync. A part of me thinks that I like the sense of freedom, being able to go, see, do what I please without explanations or a second thought. Perhaps I'm substituting 'freedom' for loneliness in my tricky mind. I have no one to share with where I go, who I see, what I do. The angle is dependent on the emotion that is in the leading role at the time. If anything, the common denominator in my daily life now is hurt, betrayal and frustration embedded in confusion.
I'm not an unintelligent person. But for the life of me I cannot ever understand why I was seen as a commodity to release. I know I played my part in the decision, but since then I've realised that a life-long serious love is not a choice. It is a life of it's own that cannot be taken away. It is one bloodstream. One breathe. One motion of seamless integration that allows all other aspects to function at it's 100% potential. Bigger, brighter, fuller. Everything is at it's best.
This is what I mean in saying I can still breathe. But not to the full capacity. I can still live my life. But it will never be at 100% on every level ever again. Because I will always wonder how he dropped my hand and didn't reach for it again when my hand was outstretched, thinking I know him well enough to reach back...
The difference between a heartbreak that so often gets described in novels and teen songs and the REAL heartbreak - is that there really are no words.
Indescribable.
I can't scream out anymore. I only have enough air in my lungs for breathing now.
My 'cliche' lies in sentimentality:
"Cos whose to worry
If our hearts get torn?
When that hurt gets thrown,
Don't you know this life goes on..."
- David Gray
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