I was hopelessly clingy, I think, and that's why in the end he needed to breathe. But five long years doesn't slip away quietly, and I had grown up loving him. I had grown up believing I would never need to find another way to cope because he would always be there. I wasn't thought of as a single person; we were a package. Me and him. It's just how it was. 267Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhx2lY0bt9q
Things were messy when it ended. I always knew I'd fall apart, and I did, violently, while everyone kind of just watched. I saw a lot of people skip out of the way as broken pieces went flying. I felt a lot of people leave my side as I slipped helplessly beneath my sanity.
Anything that made me feel better. That became my motto. I would do anything. Anything to ease the terrible, agonising pain in my chest. The tears, the heartbreak, they didn't go well with my natural tendency towards depression. My arms became ridged with angry red cuts. My days became filled with junk food and Netflix.
That was in December.
It's April, now, and a lot has changed. I think heartbreak - real heartbreak - changes something inside of you. I think you become a little colder. I think you stop giving so much of a fuck. Especially when you've given so much of yourself and watched it all just go up in flames. I think when you're left with nothing, you learn to try and preserve whatever you can salvage.
Im not saying he wasn't hurt, too. I'm not saying he hasn't had to pick up the broken pieces of his heart and try and gather himself together as well. I'm just saying it's a terrible thing when someone you knew and trusted so much must now become a memory, and we must now build walls where before we were skin to skin. Tell me that doesn't mess you up a little.
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