Heartbreak - Anthology

Heartbreak Diary

Heartbreak Diary

By thegapinthedoor

Writing
is wringing
your hands over words
left unsaid.

☯

𝟷𝟷/𝟶𝟼/𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟿
𝚃𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢
𝚆𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛: 𝙲𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍𝚢

𝚆𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚢. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚢.

𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙸 𝚙𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎, 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍, 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚢.

𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚕 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝, 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕.

☯

𝟷𝟼/𝟶𝟼/𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟿
𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢
𝚆𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛: 𝙲𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍𝚢

𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜, 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚎. 𝙸 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚎, 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍, 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚐𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢.

𝙼𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 – 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛, 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛 – 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚠𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠.

𝙰 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚛. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚍, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 –

𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚙.

𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔.

𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝. "𝙺𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚛". 𝙰 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚓𝚘𝚢, 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝, 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚝𝚑.

𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚛.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚖𝚎.

☯

𝟹𝟶/𝟶𝟼/𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟿
𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢
𝚆𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛: 𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢

𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚊 𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.

𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚢 – 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚐𝚊𝚙𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍, 𝚊 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎, 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝.

𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚍.

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.

𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚋𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝, 𝚊 𝚖𝚢𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍, 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜.

𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚝.

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