Welcome to My Heart

Heartbreak

Love was the reason I woke up in the morning. It's what got me through the day. It made me laugh and cry until I couldn't breathe; it put me on top of the world, but now it's drowned me in the deepest waters. Love was looking at him and getting that feeling in my chest, a spreading warmth that caused me both incredible satisfaction and terrible anxiety. Love was being there for him, no matter what he thought, said, or did. And it still is, but now that he's no longer mine, the crushing weight of these feelings somehow still remain.

I'm glad he stepped back from the relationship, because it wasn't good for him right now. However, he still needs me, as a friend, and I am fully prepared to stick by him through this.

But...

Whenever he leaves I cry. Whenever he hangs up the phone, the tears start to fall. Being around him hurts me so much because I'm not his anymore, but I'm still willing to follow him anywhere. Why do I never do what's healthy for me? Why do I care for him so much more than I care for myself?

It's naive and pathetic, but some part of me still believes there's a chance we could get back together after this is all over. I know it's almost certain that won't happen, but still- it's a temporary bandage for my heart until it heals.

To be honest though, I would let him break me again and again if it meant I could spend the rest of my life being someone important to him. It doesn't have to be romantically reciprocated, but I just- I need to see him.

His kindness and love saved my life, and if he's not in it anymore, I don't know what'll happen to me.

I know how bad this is. I should separate myself before I put a pressure on him when my problems are not his responsibility.

I'm afraid to say it, because to say it will be to accept the truth, but... he brings out the only bit of happiness I am still able to feel.

I want to do what will, in the end, be best for him, but the scent of his cologne clogs my senses. I remember the warmth of his neck as we stood, wrapped around each other, in the freezing rain.

I remember his eyes. They're the darkest brown you could imagine, and so unbelievably deep. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, but I never truly knew until I looked into his.

I remember the soft curve of his nose; perfectly arched and smooth. I remember his rough hands that were always cold. His soft lips and the metallic taste when we kissed. I remember his rough hair; I remember it slightly grown out, and then buzzed; messy, and then clean cut.

I remember the sound of his words at 4 am, sleepy and rough through the phone. The way his voice lowers and shakes when he's angry or scared or sad, and the way it lifts and almost floats when he's happy or talking about his music.

I remember these things, and I miss him. I miss him so fucking badly.

I remember these things, and I know I must leave.

<^>