And then there was a sadness in her heart that couldn’t be lifted.
A weight so heavy that the pressure of it pushing down made her bones ache. A weight so crushingly suffocating even a silver lining couldn’t soften it.
And then there was the realisation.
This was what it felt to be heartbroken.
It’s a bizarre feeling. To be aware of your feelings and what’s causing them, but have absolutely no definitive answer as to why you feel numb, nothing and then absolutely everything so horribly intensely all at once. Of course, heartbreak is what it says on the tin: a love so great that doesn’t go to plan. But no one can ever prepare you for the feeling.
I suppose we all feel it differently – who is to say what heartache actually is.
All I know is that the world goes on, but that even in that truth you couldn’t care less. Who needs to know that everything will be alright in the end when you thought what you had would last forever?
Words of comfort don’t help but are expected, received and filed away for when you can look back and appreciate them.
A constant and overwhelming nausea of everything you ever experienced coming to an end consumes you – to start a new beginning, to begin again.
And I think that’s what it means, to truly have loved – knowing that no matter the cards you were dealt, no matter the hurt, you will always love them and you will always hold a piece of them. In a good, peaceful way.
I’ve learned, lately, that writing things down help me and that sometimes, somehow it helps other people too.
I know we’ll be fine. We’ll carry on and life will be wonderful. But for now, I am sad and confused and angry and all the other emotions x100. That’s okay, though.
‘Tis better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all. – Alfred, Lord Tennyson.