When She Cries

Are we friends? Are we lovers?

Is it over now…

 

When your heart breaks in silence, you feel the stronger pain. A pain no physical injury can contest, a pain that strokes every vein of your body, a pain that no medicine can cure… but only your tears.

So I cried. I cried and cried, hoping the pain would subside, wishing with all my heart that I would come clean and full again. With the shooting temperature, with all the dizziness and shakiness as my fever embraced me whole, I risked my barriers. For the first time, I crumbled and let myself succumb.

In the romantic era, nineteenth century novels, and those old school plays and movies, the girl dies of heartbreak. LITERALLY. She just can't take it that the love of her life left her and hurt her. She gets grief-stricken that she submits in depression and sooner or later, a maid will find her all cold and dead, with tears spilled on her pillows. I wish I can just do that, but to oppress myself with suicidal attempts is a stupid idea, and idiotic too.

I read once in a book that those situations are what you call “conventions”. Those conventions are things that we accept wholeheartedly when they happen in books or movies even though they never happen in real life.

But when my supposed boyfriend started flicking through numbers of his exes again, it occurred to me that maybe dying of a broken heart might not be a convention at all. If anything can make death a truly desirable option, it is when the love of your life starts choosing his ex over you.

What am I thinking? Get over it and let it pass. How can I digest what my friends are advising me when all I can think of is “I'll never see him again”. It echoes through my being, it rips me apart. And again I cry, I cry so hard.

Can anyone tell me…

Why do I feel like I’m dead?