I walked into a room. My room. It was my house.
It was still a blur.
I caught a glimpse of my face when I entered in the mirror. The eyes were dead. My face was a piece of art in black mascara and salty tears.
I didn’t know what to do.
I went to the water bottle Nd took a huge gulp of water, finishing the bottle.
It was over.
How does one describe being heartbroken?
I felt a million pieces breaking within me. I felt like I was being stabbed, like my heart would stop any second and my throat was choking.
It wasn’t the first and yet the pain was just unbearable.
I sat there. Silent. Motionless.
Staring at the wall.
I don’t know how long I did that for.
See, time doesn’t slow down when your heartbreaks. You do. You are not living in those moments.
I was in the shower the next moment. It felt like a dream where I was flitting through from one scene to another.
Warm water on my back.
That felt reassuring.
I changed into my favourite pyjamas.
Took the tub of ice cream out from the freezer, switched on the TV to watch a crappy reality show.
I was numb.
The ice-cream vouched for and empathised with the numbness.
My tears started freezing over too.
It still hurt.
I was still broken.
And for that night I allowed myself to break.
I allowed myself to cry and feel the pain.
I allowed myself to experience what was left of the love.
A love which will not exist beyond tonight.