Heal.

I put on my head phones and turned up the silence tonight. You know how that is. When the world is so loud that you can’t hear your own heart beat. When your mind is so alive that you don’t even think to breathe until you’re an exhale away from stopping. When you are tired of thinking so you’ll do anything to distract yourself. And you check your phone a thousand times to see if somehow the universe will work in your favor and he will call. But each time the digital clock blinks its bright reminder that your luck hasn’t changed in the last minute. So you succumb to the pain that begins with the tip of your toe. The one with the nail that you cut too short earlier because you’re always in a hurry.

And then you feel the pain travel up your leg into your stomach. Because you have eaten too much. To fill up that void that has crawled its way into your insides and nestled there somewhere in that empty cavity.

And the pain thuds with each beat of your heart. A heart you are so surprised still beats. Because it’s a miracle that something that broken works. Ironically, the beating pushes the pain upwards.

To your neck. The neck that prickled when he grazed it the first time with his fingertip. The night he told you he could see himself with you forever.

And then you feel your lips purse when you recollect this memory of a lie. The same lips that betrayed you when you whispered that you love him, too.

And then you become aware of your thudding ears. The same ears that deceived you when they heard him take it all back.

And then, as you close your eyes to brace yourself for the inevitable, the pain moves slowly across their shallow lids. It brings a soft glimmer, a reflection of the moon the night you said goodbye.

A single tear escapes and trickles down your cheeks. You wish yourself inside that tiny water droplet, a momentary flight from the pain piercing its way into your brain.

Because it hurts the most when it gets here. Instead of dulling out the memories, the pain sharpens their focus. And in one second you recall every word that was ever spoken. And every touch that was ever exchanged. And they echo off each other, with no escape to release the pressure. Yes, the pain intensifies the more you want it to subside.

Because they told you that it would take time for it to go away. So you check your phone again, just in case. But the clock ticks slowly by in hour-long minutes. So tonight I turned up the silence. Because the noise of reality was killing me.

And maybe that is a dramatic way to start this all off. But I need you to know how I feel. When the one thing you are counting on gives up. When everything falls through. When your life seems to split apart at the seams. Literally.

If you could draw a line on the ground, you’d see it start slowly splitting its way to your Chucks and move upwards, untying the laces, unbuttoning your Dickies, unzipping your hoodie. Because life is meant to tear you apart. Because only when you are completely exposed can you see yourself for who you are.

And sometimes the tears aren’t that hard to bandage up and piece back together. And sometimes you’ll have permanent scars. Like the one on your left hand. When you locked yourself out of your car and your anger got the best of you. So you broke the glass just to get in. Because you refused to ask for help. And you bled all the way to the hospital.

The thing is though, that physical scars heal over. Even if they have to use Elmer’s glue to get you back to some semblance of order.

But sometimes we’re Humpty Dumpty. And when we fall off the wall we aren’t put back together because what was inside of us has already leaked out. Because sometimes we keep so much bottled in, that a simple fall can crack us. And once everything we’ve kept inside has escaped, we can’t ever be put together. Because we’ve lost it.

Even if they physically pieced Humpty together there would be cracks and holes. And his insides would never be fully intact. And so sometimes, when we break, we can never be made whole again. And when that happened to me, I needed to turn to you. But you gave up, because I wasn’t whole. And I can’t be whole because you gave up. At least they tried to fix old Humpty. But I’m broken.

And I can’t remember if you pushed me off the wall or I jumped. I jumped because I wanted you to catch me. But you let me fall. And so I broke. And you walked away. And now I’m broken because of you. In spite of me. All for you. And you walked away. And Humpty Dumpty is cracked. And my reality is splitting apart. And the clock keeps ticking. How long does it take for the healing to start? No, no. When is this pain going to stop? Because I think I keep breaking from being broken.

And they all keep shaking their heads. Because I get up every day. And take a shower to rinse away the dreams I had the night before. They are the dreams we planned together. And you walked away. And so I dream them by myself. In my twin-sized bed. Under the covers. Where broken dreams are meant to stay. Where broken hearts are meant to lie. Where broken girls are meant to ferment in their fevers.

I put on makeup. Because I have to paint a smile so that they’ll stop shaking their heads. But they are smart and see through the gloss. And they see my heart. And they see that it’s halfway mine and wholly yours. And they see that I get dressed in your memory, and sit on the couch. Because I have nowhere to go.

And I watch the clock tick and the stars twinkle and I breathe in and out because that is what I am supposed to do. And sometimes, I run. I run away but you follow me everywhere I go. And so I try to escape myself. But my shadow, like your memory, won’t let me forget. And I disappear. Inside my own body.

And I say hello hello goodbye goodbye and neither mean a thing to me. Because when I said hello to you my life began. And when I mumbled goodbye my world stopped turning.

And so it is always night.

Is that why you walked away?
Because it was dark and you didn’t see me fall?
Did Humpty drop in the daytime?
Is that where I went wrong?
Or did you just not care.

Because I was broken before. And I fixed myself when I met you. Which means you fixed me when you met me. And so I broke myself when you left me. Because I was broken before you met me. And maybe I am fixed because I was always broken.

And I never needed you in the first place.

Except I did. But I can lie. I can lie like you. And patch up the broken pieces and do it despite the cracks and holes. And I can accept that most of what spilled out will never be put back in. And I can be hollow.

Because the clock keeps ticking. And it only counts the seconds I miss you. Because I do. I miss you. And the more I check my phone, the more I know you haven’t called.
Hello hello goodbye goodbye.
It wasn’t you.
It won’t be you.
Because you are whole without me.
And I think that means I need you.
And I need you to tell me that I don’t.
But you don’t call.
You don't want to.
And I am broken.
And this is my heart.
It was a good heart.
But you lied.