I've achieved minimal hours of sleep each night, if any, over the last few months. Every night I was plagued with nightmares or dreams that hurt so badly when I awoke that the nightmares seemed comforting. Haunted by what I lost and what is absent in my heart. I'd sit outside in the cold spring air, puffing on a cigarette, reminiscing in my memories of the last few months. Trying to slake my thirst for happiness by drinking as if the answer is written on the bottom of the bottle or glass only brought on a sea of memories and loneliness. I feel as if I am drowning; gasping for air underneath the ocean of wanting that thinking of her shepherded into my mind. It became harder to breathe, and food lost its flavor. Nothing brings back the warmth I felt inside my chest that I felt being around her. Why get out of bed? I've lost the energy to try caring for myself. I can hear my heart speaking to me: never let this happen again. Stone encases it, slowly becoming jaded. I feel heavy. The sight of people experiencing joy brings me to tears from wanting, craving that same feeling.
I brought this upon myself. I asked for it. I wished to find someone with whom I could connect with. I wanted to synthesize my soul with someone else's. I begged for it, pleading to a God that I don't believe in to help me find someone who would fill the gaping void inside me that was left when my own family was broken as a child. It finally had happened. Years of romanticizing something so simple was finally mine to behold and cherish. I gripped it tightly, suffocated it from fear of it leaving me after my long search. I've learned now that holding onto something that tightly only creates an opportunity to slip between your fingers. The chasm in my heart has only grown wider, swallowing any joy I try to feed it, but its hunger never cases. My face rests in my hands, trying to hold back tears.
There is an adage that states: if you want a lie to be true, say it. Say it again. And again. And again. Say it until you can't remember the truth. Say it until the truth becomes the lie. I tell myself I am happy now. I put on a facade to hide the feelings that are stationed inside me without a boarding pass. Distracting myself with the company of my friends that I live with has afforded some relief. Time heals. I have started to cry less. I sleep longer. Dreams are becoming favorable to nightmares again. Flavor has returned to food. I still think of her, but I am no longer overwhelmed by despondency. I want her to find happiness, even if it is with another man. The stone encasing my heart will erode as the waters of time beat against it and wash away the sediment filling my heavy chest. I know this.
