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“amelia, how does a heartbreak feel?”

people always glorify getting your heart broken like it’s some kind of beautiful, poetic thing. it isn’t. it’s one of the most awful feelings in the entire world. there’s nothing pretty about swollen, bloodshot eyes from crying or throwing up so many times that you start tasting blood in your throat. nothing you feel during this time should ever be classified as beautiful. it fucking hurts. you’re not going to feel okay, you’re not going to feel like yourself. you’re gonna feel like you don’t even want to be here anymore. you might be breathing and your heart may be beating but you’re going to feel the farthest thing from alive. you’re not going to focus on eating and sleeping and getting out of bed. your mind is going to be too busy worrying about someone who doesn’t even give a fuck about you anymore. you simply cannot be at peace with the fact that the person you’re so god damn in love with is gone. they might not even feel gone to you, and that just makes things so much harder. you’ll find yourself ordering the same coffee that they always used to order, or turning up the radio just a little bit louder when their favorite song comes on. your heart won’t change its schedule. you’ll still be thinking of them every single minute of every single day, but it’s going to make your head hurt. you’ll feel so tired but you won’t be able to convince yourself to sleep because you feel too alone. like laying down without the person you love once means you’ll never lay down with them again. at the same time though, you’re only truly calm when you’re asleep. you’re so desperate not to feel anything. all you do is feel, feel, feel and you just want to be numb for awhile. because when you’re not, you’re in constant pain. you take it out on yourself, on everybody around you. you throw things at walls and cuss at your parents because fuck that necklace the “love of your life” got you, and how are you supposed to clean your room when you haven’t ate in four days? it hurts to eat, but these days it hurts to do anything at all. you waste so much time pondering over the thought of them coming back, but deep down inside, you know that they’re not. they left with absolutely no intentions of returning. and before you know it, it’s three in the mornng and you’re laying on your bathroom floor. it’s been months after the point people told you that you would be okay, but they were wrong because you’re the exact opposite of okay. you’re sad and you’re drunk and you’re alone. you can’t stop crying and you’re yelling at yourself to just shut the fuck up. you’re so tired of the worn down person that you’ve become, you’re tired of the life you’re now stuck living. an hour ago, you were told the person who destroyed you had moved on with someone new. if you thought vodka burned before, it doesn’t anymore because their name has taken over that position, spreading through your body like a wildfire. you’ve given up. you’re done. there’s nothing left to fight for. the cigarettes don’t make you cough anymore, you feel drunk whether you’ve had anything to drink or not, and the few people you had left are mostly likely gone. you’ve shut them out of your life, just because one person shut you out of theirs. you will never be the same person again, you’ll never be able to recognize yourself in the mirror, you’ll never want to. you don’t even hate yourself anymore, because there’s nothing to hate. mentally, you’re gone and physically, you’re getting there. the person who used to be your entire life, has now succesfully taken it away. congratulations.

do you still think heartbreak is beautiful?

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