After overcoming what I thought would be the worst episode of my life I was feeling better than ever. I was happy, strong, confident, leading a healthy life and doing cool fun things that I loved. This is when I met you. When I first saw you I sensed your vulnerability and I could see crystal clear the insecurities you were trying to hide behind those deep brown eyes with long blond eyelashes, and I thought you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. We are all a little broken and even though I was at a great point in my life I could immediately see myself in you. I have this saying that I love: “I know pain when I see it.” I think that it is because I had been in hell and I came out of there alive that I just felt I could connect with you in a way I had never experienced before. I saw you and I could tell right away that you and I belonged to the same species of sensitive misunderstood fuck-ups that most people don’t get. Little did I know that I had just signed into what would become the worst nightmare of my life.
Now that the ride is over I am experiencing grief in a way that is utterly new to me. My heart had been broken before, and I thought I had somehow learned from past experiences how to take the pieces and glue them back together. But what you did to me is unlike anything I have ever experienced. My heart is not broken, it is pulverized. How do you glue dust together? Can it be done? I honestly want to believe it can, but after going through the weariness of feeling small and insignificant to a point where you can’t even picture yourself ever coming out of your bed, sunk in the grayness of what accurately matches with the way people describe clinical depression, all I have now is this terrible life-sucking bitterness and anger. Everything pisses me off.
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