8:38 p.m. | 2005-04-10
Ticking Clock
I love heartbreak.
I know. You're all thinking I'm insane. Because I'm the same girl who cried over her heartache time after time. But I really do love it.
Because it makes me feel so alive. Because happiness is an emotion that can vary, you can be sorta happy, mostly happy, and beamingly-bright-smile-happy. But sadness? True and utter disgust for oneself and one's surroundings and what's happening in life? Feeling like you've lost all control?
It's not a happy feeling by any means. But it makes me feel so sentient. The strength of that feeling is overwhelming, not sometimes, but always.
I began to forget how happy I was. I began to pass off the fact that I got along with someone so well that it scared most others. I forgot how he put his hands in my back pockets and how he remembered what my hair smelled like. I forgot how well we worked together. Only recently have I come to remember these things. Because he's distant and angry (and for reasons I won't express he deserves to be).
Because I'm happy in feeling sad. At the very least I'm not completely emotionless like I have been in the past. I'm not bottling up what I feel like I used to. I'm not hurting myself.
I want what I had more than anything right now. Because I can no longer say ideally that I'd like a boy to not call me all the time (but at all the right times), I can't say I'd want him just to show up, I can't say I'd want him to force me to let him pay. Because I had that, and I know it's real, and I know it's possible. They're no longer just dreams and hopes and 'when I get married...'s'.
I've seen what heartbreak can do. I've seen who it can hurt and how it can ruin lives. But it's better than pretending he isn't leaving.
