My friend told me once that if I wanted to make my love life exciting, I should fall in love, break my heart, and fall again. Sure, she sounded nuts like Joker but it worked for her. For me, I guess it don't start with falling in love.
What happened...
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I never felt pain like this before since I fell in a merry-go-round when I was just seven years old.
In six hours and fifty-two minutes that passed since Jackson broke up with me, all I did was to cry and gawk at the chandelier hanging idly in my room. Sometimes, I had to force my body to peek at the window, hoping that I'd see Jackson coming back. But all I saw was the sun beginning to climb in the grey horizon. Come back? Will he come back? Will he come home into me and take back those saddest words he told me? No. It was a realization that I didn't want to have. My own desperation only hissed me the fact that Jackson has left . . . for good.
"Remember what Jackson told you, Will." I whispered myself. "You have to."
How could I if remembering him led me to suffer? Will Advil be enough to mask the pain away?
I squeezed myself into a ball in my bed, constricting the pain in my chest. It was too strong for me to hold. I shuddered and I shouted. I cried so hard making my vision fuzzy. When I got tired of holding it, I let it out. I let the pain burst out. I grabbed the pillow and threw it aimlessly. Too late to hold back, it flew in the wrong direction. The pillow landed on my favorite Venus de Milo replica that I bought for two Franklins in a fair. Everything ran slow motion when it crashed into the floor. Fragments of marble scattered in the floor and I gasped when I saw the head of Venus thrown in front of my bathroom door. The thing stared at me with its marble eyes. It was completely broken and only takes magic to bring it back just like how it used to be-another realization that piled another layer of misery in my chest. I should've placed it downstairs.
I felt helpless, broken, hollow, stupid, and everything Merriam-Webster dictionary had to describe me.
I saw another pillow and I was not planning to throw it again. The devil in my ear was whispering something that would easily take the pain. Suffocate yourself. It sounded like I broken record in my ear, playing over and over again.
My hands unconsciously reached for the pillow. I laid and pressed it hard in my face.
One . . . Two . . . Three . . . At six it started to get hard breathing. Seven . . . Eight . . . Nine . . .
I quickly removed the pillow and almost threw it again. My arms hanged in the air when I saw the photo that stood beside the computer in my desk.
"Jackson," I said voiceless.
It was me and him in the park. That was one of my Top Twenty Happiest Day of My Life, though you wouldn't think I was happy in the picture. It looked like a dream. Or did it really happen? Was it just a dream?
I got out of bed and walked towards it lifelessly.
"It's not easy Jackson. . ." I breathed.
My tears started to race down again and fell right on Jackson's face. I wiped it with the sleeve of my coat. But it didn't make everything felt better. It just made my eyes wetter. I opened the drawer of the desk and put the photo inside.
