I never expected heartbreak to feel this way. It’s the feeling of carrying around an empty heart, like keeping a dead dog. It’s the feeling of forest fires burning through my bones, wondering why, why, why was I not good enough for him? It’s the feeling of a billion poisonous memories rushing through my head, desperate to swallow me whole. It’s the feeling of a gray aura surrounding me as all I do is sleep, so I won’t have to feel. It’s the feeling of holding the weight of the world on my shoulders until it suddenly shatters, the glass shards digging themselves into my fragile skin. It’s the feeling of waking up and not remembering until the knife or truth wedges its way into my mind. It’s the feeling of eating nothing but an expired pack of colored marshmallows I found in the basement, becoming sicker and sicker with each one I pop into my mouth, but not stopping, because it’s better than tasting his cold lips on mine. It’s the feeling of longing stuck between my teeth and in the bags underneath my bloodshot eyes. It’s  the feeling of throwing up everything I once had into a public toilet, just letting the digested marshmallows and spit fall out of my mouth, because I just can’t contain my emotions anymore.

     Sometimes, all I can do is scribble lines of bad poetry in the margins of biology notes, but that’s just my way of coping with the pain. That’s just my way of pretending I’m feeling fine, evenness though I know that will never be true. That’s just my way of acting as if pain doesn’t exist, because after experiencing it for real, I know. Most people say when they feel pain, they feel it everywhere. The sensation races through their bodies and fills them with everything. But I don’t feel that way at all. For me, pain is just a void I can never fill. Without him, I’m afraid I’ll just feel empty forever.