football imagines {premier league}

Jadon Sancho

- heartbreak.

You know that feeling of your heart becoming tight from pain.

Maybe that's heartbreak...

The tears glazing over your eyes as you desperately try to convince yourself you don't need to cry. The empty stare into the whiteness of the room. Nothing. Just silence. A sigh from your own lips, the same lips that quivered with such pain as you sink to the floor wailed in pain.

Maybe that's heartbreak...

The sinking pit of sickness in your stomach. The shaking of your tone whenever someone asks if your okay. The simple nod because you're afraid your words will fail you.

Is this what it feels like? Heartbreak? Or is it betrayal? Lies? Pain?

When he held your hand for the last time. Told you he loved you knowing he'd never repeat those words to you ever again. That beautiful smile that now no longer belonged to you.

The salty taste of your tears was something you'd become accustomed too. A fake smile. A false "I'm fine". As you watched him live his life like he hadn't completely broken yours, smiling like he hadn't bruised yours. His poor excuse playing over in your mind like a broken record, "It's what's best for us" he said so casually, brushing away the past 4 years as if they meant nothing to him. Though every word that came out of his mouth were like needles, injecting such emotion into your body you'd never felt before. How to get rid of the poison is a cure you long for. You pray every night that you wake up happy, a genuine smile not a forced one, to see a picture of him and not feel anything.

The memory of watching him pack his bags, looking at you and asking for help like he couldn't wait to get out. A rushed goodbye, the drag of wheels against the concrete driveway, the engine of his car spluttering out fumes as he unnecessarily revved it. A sympathetic smile that was his form of a plaster, like that gesture was going to fix everything and solve all your problems. Off he went. Gone. Just like that. You remember it ever so clearly. A chocked swallow as you turned back into the house, everything reminding me off him. Purely the smell alone a mixture of Dior and that Lynx Africa shit. Each room holding different memories that weren't painted around the room, hung from the ceiling, embedded in the tiles. "I need space". Laying in bed thinking about what exactly that meant. A polished lie, a ignorant bliss as he watched you crumble in front of him, how he held your hand for the last time, the ways his fingers slotted between yours, now feeling like an intoxicating capture, not like the perfect puzzle you once believed in. Not the perfect picture he once painted you.

He's got a new girlfriend now, you see him flaunting her around town, endless posts on Instagram that chip away at your confidence. A castle he'd once built but now with a different princess. You was locked up within your own thoughts, he didn't care, you don't think he ever did. It was nice to see that 'space' was working out well for him "maybe we'll find out way back to one another". Oh what a perfect ending, build you and then drop you to the floor, stamp all over the shattered pieces just to ensure your as damaged as they come. You never knew a lie could sound so sweet until he opened is mouth and said those three words "I love you".

He lied. He never meant any of it. And now you know what it all was.

That was heartbreak...