I have read hundreds of books with love stories, and that many (if not more) of broken hearts. I have read enough to think that by now I'd be able to predict the aftermath, to know what to expect when the love story turns into a broken heart. I predicted the shock and the tears. The irrational anger and utter disappointment. Confusion and clarity...the loneliness.
The shock hit me first, out of the blue, like a punch straight to my lungs. The tears threatened to fall...but I held strong. The anger of knowing something so beautiful had just got irreparably broken, and the disappointment of the biggest promise he didn't keep. Liar
The confusion of wondering who would make me happy from now on, and the clarity of realizing he was never the source of that happiness. Loneliness being solved by a phone call to the best friend that had always been there in times of need.
However, never in a million of years would I have expected to feel this... empty.
I'd like to think of myself as a happy person, at least for most of the time. Nevertheless, the moment it finally sank in that it was over, I felt as if I had never had any feelings at all. What hurt the most weren't any of those things. No, what hurt the most was the sudden emptiness of my future: the unfulfilled promises, the adventure we would never get to live, the imaginary babies that would never be born...
A part of me that didn't exist yet died today...
People will say I need to be strong, that everything will be alright. But I've dodged a few stones thrown my way before and this will not be the one to take me down. I will not fall, nor will my tears. This story may end here, but my life does not and certainly will not my happiness.