The Diary of a Fallen Girl

form of many

My very first heartbreak came in the form of dark eyes, and long black hair. The real damage came from the screaming and crying and the burning of lungs. It was the sweeping of tables and the denial of freedom, consisting of empty threats that left me just as hollow. Then, the hurricane moved on, leaving a trail of broken glass in her wake.

The second time my heart was broken, it was by a boy with blonde hair and blues eyes like the sky. He was gentle and carefree, oblivious to anything outside of his world – anything beyond the outdoors and his math class. I loved him, and he did not; and thus, the cut was simple, yet effective.

My third heartbreak came with such immediacy and invisibility that I almost missed it completely. It came in the form of palms on my cheeks and a whirlwind of first-kisses and sweaty bodies intertwined for Sunday movies. It came in the form of familiarity and dependance on another living soul but my own.

It was a result of the foolishness and cluelessness of being young, and in all the time I spent invested in decoding a familiar face, I failed to realize that I was yet to discover myself individually. The heartbreak came in the form of a boy with brown hair and warm arms who I threw all of my emotion into, and ultimately, it was not him that broke my heart; but it was loving him that destroyed me.

My very last heartbreak was the longest of them all. It was a pattern of feeling hollow; feeling trapped and uncomfortable inside my own skin. It was the emptiness of a human soul, becoming nothing more than yet another inconvenience to negotiate with.

It was a battle between light and darkness, where in which, one side simply didn't even exist. It was a heartbreak in which I lost my mind, and then fell into complete and utter insanity while searching for redemption.

It is a heartbreak from which I am still learning.

It is a heartbreak that I caused for myself.