break my heart

one

After

Some people are naturally charismatic, they radiate confidence, set people at ease. Everyone wants to get to know them, try to crawl as close as they can and, if they're lucky, they may even get noticed. They can do no wrong, as they must have good intentions behind their actions; they're perfect despite never claiming to be so. But what no one tells you is that they can snap. As the attention seeps into their ego, it snatches away the shy, generous, gentle person you once knew and replaces it with an ego-centrical, cold, attention-seeking stranger while you wonder whatever happened to the person you loved. Are they trapped somewhere deep inside? Or worse, are they lost forever? You never give up on them so you try to dig them out, not realising just how deep you're getting until you look up from the hole you're now stuck in and they're peering down at you from the top. That's when you realise they never really wanted you like you wanted them, and now you're just stuck below while they walk away.

Sometimes, I have these dreams where he's still there with his strangling hold on my heart, claws he forgot were there digging in while I dangle from his grasp, too cowardly to even think about breaking free. Other times, I'm trapped behind a wall of glass, where I can see him on the other side but he's just beyond my reach, as he always was. There's always someone else there with him, they seem close, so close and caught up in each other that he never notices me. Not when I'm screaming from the other side, not when I throw myself against the glass, not when I finally sink to the floor with nothing but a broken heart. The worst ones are when I'm still with him, my brain tricking me into thinking I'm back in that vicious cycle and I'm left desperately searching for any signs of the life I have without him, terrified that it might have been a dream. Whatever the scenario I always wake up with a deep void settled in my chest, wondering if he knows that he haunts my nightmares, that the joy I felt with him will never outweigh the baggage he's left me with. I hate the nightmares, but I hate how much they terrify me even more.

In the mornings, my ceiling is littered with patches of sunlight which have managed to penetrate my blinds and my eyes follow the dusty blades of my ceiling fan which lazily rotate, providing barely any airflow. This morning I can hear my roommate, Kyra, in the kitchen. Her presence is noted by the distant slamming of cupboard doors, the rumble of the kettle heating up and the distinct aroma of coffee. It is enough to stir me from my morning trance and gather the motivation to finally move. Slowly, I pull myself up and roll out of bed, before heading out of my room to join her in the kitchen.

"Morning," she grins, leaning against the countertop, "I thought the coffee might finally wake you up."

"Yeah, that and you slamming every surface possible," I reply with a laugh as I grab a mug from the dishwasher, "you're lucky there's coffee right now."

"You know you love me anyway," she sings as she passes me, heading to the lounge room with her own mug in hand.

I shake my head and sigh before making myself a coffee and reaching for an apple from the fruit bowl. As I hold it in my hand it looks small, innocent and is cool against my palm. I know that it's fruit, it's healthy; essentially, it's a pretty small breakfast. But I also know that a medium apple is around 95 calories, which is less than a medium banana, which is around 105 calories, so it's a little safer-

Stop.

I have to interrupt myself whenever I catch myself doing this. I've been trying to break the cycle of thinking this way, but old habits die hard. It's difficult to look at food the same after months of viewing it as the enemy; months of counting every single calorie of every last molecule of food that entered my mouth. It's tiring, but whenever I'd lacked the strength to continue he was there, telling me I could do it, to think of the reward. He was right, of course, but I can't help wondering if it was worth the cost of never being able to look at food without estimating how many calories lie hidden within each mouthful. I'm no happier now anyway, if anything, I feel worse. Sometimes, I also wonder if I went too far, if my brain is now trapped in this fucked up mindset and the desire to just be smaller will always haunt me, no matter what.

I decide to stick with the apple to eat anyway. After finishing it, I quickly realise that I'm almost late for my train and scramble to get ready for the day. Swearing under my breath as I go, I transfer the mess scattered across the surface of my desk into the nearest bag before slipping my phone into my pocket and snatching my keys off the table in my mad rush for the door. As soon as I tug the door open, I hear Kyra's voice from the bathroom, but I can barely hear her over the water from the shower and the music she has blaring.

"What?" I call back, "I can't hear you!" I see the bathroom door crack open and her head pops up to fill the gap.

"I said, can you get milk on your way home today? Oh! And we also ran out of soap!"

"Yep, gotta run, gonna be late. Bye!" I reply before I swiftly exit, slamming the door shut behind me.

I have to run the whole way to the train station. Despite the autumn air having its distinctive icy breeze stirring the leaves, I'm madly sweating and red in the face by the time I stumble into the train compartment and collapse into the closest vacant seat. Wiping my forehead on my sleeve, I sigh and put my headphones on before looking around at the other people on the train to pass the time. It's mid-morning, meaning the rush of kids going to school has passed but the train is relatively busy, crammed with other university students and people heading to work. Most are alone with headphones in, like me, but others stand in groups or pairs. I catch sight of a young girl leaning her head on the shoulder of who I assume is her boyfriend, watching as she smiles and laughs at something he shows her on his phone. They seem perfectly content together, ignoring as the rest of the world passes by them - it's nice.

I wonder if they are in love, or if they're just pretending for appearance's sake. Is he really happy? Is she really happy? I'll never know, but as pessimistic as I am, I hope they are. Of course, I can't exactly contribute much on the subject of love. One might think that after spending over two years in a relationship that I would know exactly what love is, however I emerged from that time even more confused and disorientated than when I entered.

I begin to twist the small, silver rings that are on my fingers. I was never really much of a fan of wearing rings until a few years ago, but now I'm not sure what I would do when anxiety overcomes me if I didn't have them to fiddle with, to provide a distraction for my forever wandering mind. I swallow and glance back up, catching sight of the couple as they head towards the exit while the train slows beside the station's platform. Their fingers are intertwined and he plants a kiss on her cheek before the doors slide open and they vanish from my sight, leaving only a tinge of sadness in my heart, though I'm not sure why. It's not until I'm exiting at my own station that I wonder if it's because he and I must have looked like that to other people; I wonder if they ever looked at us and thought 'what a nice couple!'. If they did, what a lie that would have been...

and I was the biggest liar of them all.

***

as i'm posting this i see it's quite depressing but please let me know what you think, if you're into it or have any suggestions? :)