The Musings of a Broken Heart

Tic Toc! Tic Toc!

On and on the pink faced wall clock drawls as if in amused mockery of the ball of limbs and hair that you have shaped yourself to be. The air is dense, even the sheets seem heavy. You kick them off with more force than necessary. They are suffocating. Somewhat like the anguish and sorrow that permeates the walls of the room.

"Over you I have control at least!" You mutter to the now jumbled mess of sheets on the floor. A recalcitrant chuckle escapes your lips.

You don't remember the last time you showered. Four....five days?

"It's not like anybody sees me! It's not like anybody gets close enough to care whether I stink or not!"

It can't be that horrible can it? This limbo you're living in. This space of nothingness. You hear it, don't you? The eerie voice that seeps from under your door or are those your troubled thoughts again?

"You have to stay here. Here is safe you see. Here he can't hurt you. He can't make you feel invisible"

It's dark. Too early in the morning. The light from the screen burns your eyes. A few hours have passed since you last looked at his profile picture. You tap on the ubiquitous green icon on the Favorites section of your app list. Scroll down the list of recent chats. His picture is not too far down. How could it be? When it was him that you rushed to text about every little odd thing that happened during the day. Oh how you itched to tell him about the new salt shakers in the office cafeteria! He didn't seem to mind your eccentricities then. They amused him. It's funny isn't it? The frangibility of humor. Administered in too large a dose and it warps into something else. Something sad.

Eventually he grew tired of your idiosyncrasies. He said he did not find you funny anymore. He started taking days to reply to your texts. Didn't pick up the phone when you called. Called you petty when you confronted him about his distance and indifference. You watched as he became a stranger before your very eyes. You felt the little cuts bleed as the sharp edges of your now shattered heart swam  around in your chest. He did not love you anymore. Makes you wonder if he ever did!

Yet still you crave to tell him about the artist that you have just discovered. How her music makes you feel light and airy and wistful. How every melody reminds you of him. Visions of a happier time. When your chest did not bleed.

"No! Don't you dare! He doesn't deserve it!"

But you do it anyway. It's not like you can stop loving him overnight.

Your heart sank when you saw his latest Facebook post. Something about celebrating one year of friendship with some girl you don't know. 'To many more!' He comments.

"Who is this girl? How  does she know him? Wait, why do I care? Why am I still his friend on Facebook?"

There is an overwhelming need to smash the phone against the wall. To shatter it into a million pieces and look at the pieces strewn on the floor.

"Breathe!"

You stare at the profile picture once more. He's at a game of some sort judging from the yelling fans that surround him. Stripes of black paint across their cheeks. Must be a rugby game. He loves rugby. He seems happy. He must be happy. He's smiling, oblivion plastered on his face.

"How can he be happy? Did I really matter that little to him?"