My love. You made me feel so safe. Is that why I lived in denial so long? You were constantly trying to convince me that you were deeply and utterly in love with me. Countless times you told me I was your only one. I was the sun lighting your world and without me you would be nothing but an empty shell residing in eternal darkness. Did you think that I wouldn’t eventually fall into belief of your lies? Had you really convinced yourself that you felt that way about me? All the while denying the truth your heart was trying so desperately to tell you, I’m sure. I would really like to know.

Not knowing, not understanding why, is the hardest part. You don’t know what opinions to form about the situation because you don’t even know the cause of the damage. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I still don’t. The confusion is suffocating; the pain, intoxicating. You barely survive the torment of dwelling on the matter and yet you’re constantly asking for more. Nobody is able to save you. The only rescue would be a love that doesn’t break you, but you’ve blocked yourself off from that possibility. You have grown cold in an instant, your heart turned to stone. You become so guarded that you would commit emotional murder before letting someone get within a thousand miles of the place it used to beat.

A true survivor of heartbreak is someone who accepts that they will never find love, real unconditional love, and comes to peace with that.

The words of “comfort”  from friends and family are the worst. They are supposed to be the people that truly care about your well being, and yet with every word that leaves their mouths comes the recognition that they’re formed simply to accept things long enough for you to become another persons burden. To make you say, “Yes, everything is okay.” Everything is NOT okay. Sometimes you have to stand with someone for hours, even days, before they come down from the ledge.

Of course, that’s assuming they’re even down that path with you. Sometimes you can give people an abundance of signs of your emotional instability and they remain completely and utterly ignorant to your inner turmoil. Worse yet, they may simply not care enough to get involved.This puts them on the same page as the person who’s shattered your heart into a million little pieces. It’s a wonder if they realize how much they contribute to your pain, how much they accentuate it.

This heartache is seasoned with music. Melodies of something nearly obtained. Something foolish; something that never really was. They say that if you keep focusing on the pain that it just makes it worse, but where else is there to go when that’s the only puzzle that fits your piece?

I would rather drown in blissful ignorance than shoulder this pain for a second more.

When you take off the mask to your soul only to discover that your love no longer wishes to see, it does something to you. Something irreversible. Instead of simply taking secrets to your grave, you subconsciously vow to yourself to take your heart to your grave as well. In a way you end up perpetuating a cycle of heartbreak. You would never be cruel enough to offer false promises of eternal love, but you become unemotional to your casualties. In the end it’s a double-edged sword. You become unspeakably strong, but you will never again feel the intoxicating high of the lie that is love.