When you have your heart shattered into a million pieces not once but twice by a dude you gave your all, your everything plus some more too, you never really get it all back.
At first you're completely hollow to the point that you can hear your organs echo up your esophagus at night and no matter how much you wanna cry your tank has been running on empty for weeks no sleep no food just beer and that gets you no where at least no where near to what today was supposed to be but you find your rattling echo bellow for you to walk and start stumbling into bars looking for anything to make you feel something inside. Cheap thrills, cheap drinks cheap men or girls well below your standard sub par notion of what you think your self worth is really worth. Nothing. Empty. Hollow. Fill me up sweetie for the night I'll wake up and repeat rinse wash and repeat another hollow week.
Then you gain a little self worth you start doing your makeup for you and you've lost all this weight from the lack of eating and sleeping and the boys that are a little above sub par self deprecating standards start to ask you things but you're still in limbo and drink a little too heavily and you make poor choices and fall right back into bad habits of falling for boys that don't give a ****. You find that one boy, the first boy that makes you feel a little something and you realize after one night you can't stand to be around comfort for more than a few hours because you're not comfortable; you're timid and scared and don't want people to touch you or kiss you or look you in the eyes that way, the way he did, and when they give you compliments you laugh it off because your self worth is still nothing. You're still empty. But the rattling stopped so that's something.
Then one day you pick yourself out of bed and are suddenly faced with the daunting task of dating again. You drink but not that heavily. You go to shows by yourself and have met new friends and feel like your head is finally back on your shoulders. You rock that skirt you thought you couldn't and revel in the far from straight guys throwing compliments at you on the streets and finally you feel full. But you still can't hold a boys hand for too long without feeling guilt or I guess just out of place. When they ask to sleepover you let them pass out and sneak onto the couch because you can't bring yourself to be that vulnerable with a kind boy with kind eyes who might lie and let you down not once but twice like he did. Not that they're all the same its just you can't shake the wall you subconsciously built up after he left. You can't be that hopeless romantic with the rose coloured glasses waiting for Prince Charming to save you from single suburbia and waltz you away to your dream life. People ****. People always ****. And that's the part of myself I miss the most. The carefree carelessness skipping down the streets, ready to rip open my chest and share my darkest secrets after our eyes meet and we have that spark and everything feels right on track.
That I will probably never get back.