Life in London

Chapter 23

Jade's POV-

The funny thing about realizing you're heartbroken is that you realize just how much you loved him. I guess it's not exactly funny but how could you not stare at the floor, laughing at how stupid and clueless you were. Everything happened so fast that I didn't realize that I, Jade, was in love with Zayn Malik. The man who barged into my life, swept me off my feet, and made me feel something for him that I had never felt before. In such a short time, I've experienced passion and love with a man I barely knew but know so well.

I can't say I didn't see this coming. I knew it wouldn't last. I've watched it happen countless times with my sister. She fell in love, or thought she did. She gave her all in the relationship knowing good and well that she was bound to be hurt again. She was young and so am I. Young love doesn't last. Life isn't a romance movie where you meet your sweet heart right when you turn 20 and then you grow old together.

No.

This is the real world where real hurt exist. Fucked up things happen to innocent people that don't even deserve it.

Don't let your happiness depend on something you may lose. I lost him. If you would have asked me a month ago if I would ever cry about a guy, I'd laugh in your face. I'm not the kind of girl to cry over a guy because of a break up. Little did I know, that when you break ties with the one you loved, your eyes don't shed tears, they create waterfalls.

Growing up, I saw tons and tons of pictures all over tumblr and different medias saying that letting go of someone you love is the hardest thing you could ever do. I may be exaggerating but it feels that way. You know what else they say, if you were meant to be together, it will happen. Some way or another, we will be brought back together mysteriously if we were bound for each other.

I think what killed me the most was the experience I had with him. I've never kissed someone like I've kissed him. I've never slept next to a guy before. I've never cuddled with a guy before. I got used to what it felt like to be next to him. To wake up and see him beside me. To cook meals with me.

I didn't mean to fall in love, but I did.

The whole night, I didn't sleep. The first few hours were spent sitting on the floor with my back to the couch staring aimlessly outside the window as the rain fell. The next few hours were spent of me unpacking the boxes I had stored upstairs filled with my art supplies. I guess I needed something to keep my mind off of the events that played out. I set up my easels and paints in their appropriate drawers and shelves then sat on a stool in front of an empty canvas I had placed on one of the easels. I sat there for a good hour thinking and contemplating what I could paint.

I knew once I'd started, my feelings and emotions would pore onto the canvas so instead of giving it much thought, I dipped my paint brush into the black paint and began to drip the paint into a figure of a woman.

I painted until the sun started to peek through the bare window behind the canvas I worked on. I haven't done this in a while. I forgot how much painting calmed me and kept me stay at ease with things. Not that I needed to be at ease with much, but when I felt down, it was an alternative to writing. With writing, it's always going to be there. One day you pick up that old journal and read what you've written. You are reminded of the hurt and pain you were in. With paintings, you look at it and it expresses what you felt that day but it also emphasizes that there is a happy ending to the day you were having.

Is there a happy ending for this day?

The next few hours were spent of me sitting on the stool with a cup of coffee, staring periodically through the window and at the painting I created. A woman with her arms above her head and her bare back faced to me is shown on the canvas.