I’m having a hard time taking back my hand now that it’s moving towards yours and I'm having a hard time dealing with the fact that this simple movement is no longer the same.
I'm having a hard time taking down the photographs of us on my wall and I'm having a hard time not showing everyone our couple photos that we took in front of the parliament buildings last week when we tried to act like tourists.
I'm having a hard time not thinking about how beautiful the way you speak is and how passionate your eyes are and how secure your arms feel.
I'm having a hard time believing that I can stop having panic attacks and that I can go to sleep without dreaming that we're together again.
I'm having a hard time waking up in the mornings because every time I have to go through realizing what has happened and every time I want to tell myself to go back to sleep because there I am with you and with you I am whole and safe and loved.
(i love you,
i love you,
i love you.)
Me and Jasper broke up after 1 year and 3 months of being together. (Which was his first relationship and my first meaningful, true love.)
It's not setting in yet. I don't know how to deal with this.
I don't know how to stop breathing too fast and I don't know how to stop my eyes from leaking rivers down my face and I don't know how to stop my nose from being icky and runny and I don't know how to come to terms with the fact that I am no longer loved by the one who I love with my entire heart.
And I do. Even though I agree with why we broke up and that it was the right thing to do, I can't process it entirely. Part of me is stuck in the past and how awesome that was and how I expected things to turn out.
I just don't know right now.
I just can't.
I know, though, that I have grown to be a better person throughout the time I was with Jasper, and that we have both learned so many things and made so many incredible memories that we both don't want to forget (though right now I just wish I could time travel back into them).
And to anyone who still thinks that I'm complaining of something average, *******.
Try to understand, even if I can't understand it completely.
I know the pain of losing a parent. I know the pain of being sexually violated. I know the pain of being cheated on.
And I can **** well understand the pain of a lot of people around me going through **** just as bad as this, in different ways that I have not yet experienced.
And this pain is not comparable.
Pain is not comparable.
I don't care that this is not a poem. I need to vent and I sure as hell can't do it on Facebook, and writing in a journal makes me think too much about how he's not going to write me letters anymore and writing on Word makes me feel alone and depressed.
Well, it's depressing either way. I don't know what it is. It's not good. I don't like it.
But I have to take those sleeping pills my mom gave me now and go to sleep if I want to go to church and not completely break down and ruin everyone's Sunday morning.