Satellite Stomper and Wild Sunflower [Zarry Stylik AU]©️

Anger & passion...

Z,

It took me a while to reach a state where I was good. Mentally and emotionally good. I refused to acknowledge what happened and kept my emotions inside. I didn't want to shed more tears than what I had shed that Saturday in that cottage.

Keeping everything bottled up inside, made me crawl and drag my body across the floor trying to understand what happened. I tried calling him, I searched for him, and I hunted him down. All my possibilities ended up being dead ends. Harry was nowhere to be seen or found. He was gone for good.

And just like that, we were done.

In a fit of anger, I grabbed his things, put them all inside a box and shoved it in the attic. My house was naked, and he was no more.

If it was over, then it was over.

It was just me, my pain, and my sorrow for the longest time. I focused on work. I had my tattoo shop; I had my clients. I kept my head down and focused on the business. I shifted my attention, so I wouldn't feel.

But, like all good things, your emotions will, in the end, catch up with you. Slowly, I lost the will to eat, skipping meals. I drank more than I should. My sleep schedule was fucked up, where I would go through fits of insomnia or just sleep all day.

If anyone asked I was fine.

Perfectly fine.

I tried to keep my mind clean of him. I went through moments where I hated him. Oh! I hated him! Just to miss him even harder. I was angry at him, just wanting to have him next to me and thinking of his body on me. I bounced from adoration to complete and utter rage with the ticking of the clock. It was a constant battle between anger and passion. I dreamt of him. I heard his voice. My sheets smelled of him. In my head, he was still next to me.

Harry had broken my heart. I had broken his. And we competed to see who broke who further. No good amount of love could solve that.

And most definitely not a wedding ring.

I was slowly becoming a shadow of myself. It came a day when I stopped going to work altogether. My body was taking me down as my bottled-up emotions were taking a physical toll on me. I heard my alarm go off,  turned it off but didn't go to work.

I didn't have it in me.

I called saying I was sick and, even though by the third week it was obvious I didn't have the flu, my team didn't insist. They gave me time and space to recover from whatever I needed to recover.

Slowly, I isolated myself. Lost contact, missed calls, unanswered texts...Quiet was the best option.

I would tremble, but not cry. Convulse, but not shed one tear. I was broken.

The days and weeks blended in together, as I kept sinking and sinking. My body convulsed with anxiety and panic attacks that left me breathless, curled up on the floor, holding myself tight until I calmed down.

I couldn't see a way out. I didn't know how to stand. It felt definitive. Over. I couldn't feel anything anymore. It wasn't like other times when I ended or Harry did, but we'd find one another later on.