epitaphs

hurt me thrice

the first time he breaks your heart, it will feel as if your entire being is broken in two. two halves, like the two of you were supposed to be, except this doesn't feel right at all.

you will wish you could turn back time, to go back to when you were happy, when he was supposed to be happy.

and you'll start to hate yourself. all the love you felt for him will transform into hatred towards yourself, cold, dark, black despicable hate. you'll question why you weren't enough to stay for, you'll ask why, so many whys, that you'll never know the answer to.

and for a while, it'll drive you mad.

your heart will be blackened for a while, by that hate, by that longing you still have for the one who broke you so, and then by more hate, for yourself, for still wanting him.

you'll try your best to ignore it, plaster on a smile and tell everyone you're fine, you've moved on, to better boys and bigger things, grander prospects.

those are just your coping mechanisms.

you lie to yourself just like he lied to you because that's what you're familiar with, broken but beautiful lies, that taste like ecstasy on your tongue and warm you like vermouth in your stomach.

you lie to yourself that you might be falling for this new boy, because you invite him into your bed every night. you lie to yourself that when this boy touches you, you don't pretend that it's him. you lie to yourself that when you whisper false 'i love yous', you're not saying it to this substitute, but whispering it out into the winds of destiny, to be carried towards his soul.

you lie to yourself when you fake a grin and pour liquid courage down your throat. shot after shot, bottle after bottle, until you're so deliciously numb that you can gaslight yourself into thinking that he and you could maybe be friends again.

and then he's back, in your life, again, and you lie to yourself and say that you're satisfied with him being in your life in whatever capacity, when all you really want to do is kiss his mouth and beg him to never leave you or hurt you again.

and for a while, everything is good. the two halves of your heart draw close again, and you mistake the nearness of the halves for full and complete healing, and you stupidly allow yourself to fall once more.

only, no surprise, he's not there to catch you.

and as your heart falls, it splits again, this time even more broken than before, into quarters.

you curse yourself for your stupidity, and you wonder how you managed to fall for his tricks once more. and a harsh voice in the back of your head whispers love, love did this to you, love is what broke you.

and so you reject it. you reject love, and the hurt is there but this time you're used to it. and it hurts less. whether that's you losing your innocence, your humanity, or a blessing from the gods, you're glad it hurts less. because that means you can go back even faster to pretending its okay, to going through the boys and the bottles and the flippant dismissal of your friends concerns, and pretend that you don't need him. that he doesn't ever cross your mind, except when you're in your room by yourself, listening to the mixtapes he made you once upon a time.

you've introduced a new coping mechanism called walls. you realize you can't knit your quarters of a heart back together so instead you build walls to protect them, encapsulate yourself in stone so that no one can get in and steal a piece of your soul ever again.

without even realizing it though, you've made those walls impervious to everyone except for him.

and then he comes back to break your heart for a third, and final time.

and those walls you so meticulously built crumble at his one touch, at his fleeting glance of attention.

then he shatters you. he shatters your heart into innumerable pieces that you have no hope of ever putting back together so all you can do is sweep them up and beg him to help you.

but apparently third times the charm because he's tired of you now, he's done his work, he's shattered what he came for and made you broken just like him. but now that you're just like him, as wretched and terrible as he is, he doesn't want you anymore.

he tells you this is the last time, that he's found someone new and he's sorry it didn't workout.

you want to yell or scream or cry that sorry isn't going to un-shatter your soul, that sorry isn't going to let you love ever again, but all you feel is numb.

numb because without your heart, how can you feel at all?

it's a double-edged sword, the shattering, because on one hand you never have to feel the pain that you felt the first two times, you can will it away and your heart will never grow conscious of it. on the other hand, your heart may never grow conscious of anything after that at all.

darling, take the first two times as a warning, for after you break the third time, you'll never experience love again.

a/n: listen to what happens now by olivia o'brien for an added experience :)