Pain in my heart…. November 10, 2009

The majority of songs are written about it. It has inspired many a poem and novel. Everyone has heard of the damage that it can cause. 

Heartbreak.

Something that no one ever wants to go through, but something that is the main aid in self discovery. The sobering effect that a breakup has is unlike any other. Although every one is different in it’s own unique way, the same feeling always comes along with it; as if a hole was punched through your chest. Making you gasp everytime the air flows through it.

I can’t say that I have had many breakups. Maybe two or three I guess. The first ending my four year relationship with a person that never even wanted me there in the first place. Too enveloped in his own dysfunction to even care. The few relationships that I have had in the past did not even seem like relationships at all. More like things that I was supposed to be doing, and holding onto. It wasn’t until the relationship that I am in now that I ever felt what it was like to actually meld.

Drew and I hit it off from the beginning. Like it was meant to be. Everything fell into place perfectly. We became inseperable. Best friends. We spent all of our time together. But we were doomed from the start. About two moths into our relationship, Drew broke his neck at work one day when he got pulled up into a metal ceiling by some conduit. I honestly don’t even know if we would have made it as far as we did if that hadn’t happened. When he came over to my house after he got out of the hospital he was on all kinds of medication, barely able to stand up, and the first thing he did when he got up the stairs was grab a beer. From the stories that he has told me, Drew has never been one to turn down a “good time”. Being a teenager in the mid-nineties in Philadelphia, he was always dropping acid, doing meth or snorting coke. I knew what he did was wrong, and stupid, and not normal, but he could tell a story. And I loved to listen. I loved that he fell for me so quickly. It made me feel special. As time went on things got bad, then good, then bad again. Xanax is the Devil. And Drew loves it. He would go through long periods of getting high and then when something terrible would happen, like when he hit a parked car, or almost overdosed, he would clean up. He would apologize and say that he was done. It was stupid and he was never going to touch it again. Then 3-6 months would go by and it would start back up.

I have hidden half of myself away to be with this person. Keeping my creativity and intelligence at bay. Molding myself unknowingly into a version of him. I felt so comfortable with him that I didn’t want to try to break free or change or better myself.

The truth is, even writing all of this right now, I still just want to go back. Because it’s the easiest way. I would rather sacrifice my own happiness rather than feel this uncomfortable hurt. Even though I know that it will never be right, it doesn’t mean that I don’t care. I love him in one way or another, to the extent that it feels as if I am trying to rip myself in half. When he calls me grasping for anything, anything at all just to speak to me, I feel as if my heart is being torn out when I tell him that I have to get off the phone. In fact I think it hurts me more than it hurts him. But when I close my eyes and look into the future, I can see the end. I can see myself healing, and I can see us both moving on. It’s the stuff in the middle that gets me. The overwhelming lonliness and sadness. The wish to talk to him when I think of some funny little thing. He has taken over my mind entirely since July 30, 2007. Now I know I must think about myself, and how I want to live the rest of my life.

The truth is that even if I did go back, nothing would ever change.

I just have to remember that.