“I remember wanting,
wanting so badly to have a broken heart when I was a
kid. I just wanted to understand.
Maybe I didn't want a broken heart, more, I just wanted to be
in love.
But I associated love with a broken heart. And I just
wanted that feeling, because having a broken heart, meant that I
had had love.
And then, and then——I
had a broken heart.
And I remember stumbling over myself to get into the bathroom and
my hands were so cold, and I was scratching at my cheeks and
sobbing—choking on my own saliva, coughing—the worst
type of sobbing there is,
and I couldn't breathe, and I was throwing up half in the
trash can, half on my shirt, and for hours on end, there was just
me and the bathroom floor and my cheek pressed against it,
holding us together.
And I remember the tears had become a silent stream of this
hurts this hurts more than I could have ever imagined,
and there were gasps in five minute intervals that would send
shudders and a tremor throughout my whole body, and my hands were
shaking,
and I could not, for the life of me,
stop clutching at my chest where a dull throb had
formed.
I believe it was my heart, still beating even after
broken——
thud thud
thud
much too lazy to
actually try to make a format for this
heres a lazy writing i guess
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blankwolf* · 1 decade ago
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this is so perfect