Is this what a heartache feels like?
Your hand clutches tightly at the flesh at your breast, hoping it could reach your heart. You need to reach it, because it is twisting, contracting, hurting, but all you can do is curl your body into a ball to protect your heart from anymore damage. You feel the hot tears streaming down your face first, then, as you clutch even tighter, you hear the howls escaping from your throat. It doesn’t sound like you, it’s not you at all. You feel cold, and quickly bring the covers up to your neck. But you’re still shivering. Because the chills came from within. You hear your veins and arteries crinkle into icicles but your heart is still pumping hard. And with each thud that sounds loudly in your ears, your head swirls. Your nails leave red marks on your skin where you were trying to get to your heart. It doesn’t hurt. Your outer shell ceased feeling a long time ago. Perhaps this is what leads the brave to cut themselves. So that they could release all the pain that is contained within this numb outer shell. But you’re a coward. You hug your bolster so tight you can hear it wheezing. You need warmth from another body. You want strong arms and legs wrapped around yours. But how could you have thought that a limp, lifeless bolster could replace a human being?
Cocooned by your pillows, soft toys and duvet, you slip slowly into unconsciousness. You dream of your day at work, the daily routine, you speak with the same people you speak to everyday, then you start to wonder, in your dream, if it was all a nightmare. Just as you begin to feel relieved, your mind goes into overdrive, each flash that blinds you behind your eyelids sends poisoned darts to your heart. You jerk violently awake, and you realize you’re still living your nightmare. The darts slowly turn into jagged edged daggers, the deeper the blades sink in, the larger the slits they make. In a sudden moment of clarity, the blades withdrew and you feel foolish. You recall what it was like to be in control, when you ruled with your head and not your heart. Then you start to shake as a fresh new tear streams down from the corner of your eye. That tiny crystal of liquid falls onto your arm. Like a button pushed, those hundreds of daggers that were hovering near rain down on you. You think your heart cannot take anymore, but it fights on. Your hand is back at your breast, clutching so hard it hurts now. You cry, loudly, your mouth opened and the corners pulled downward. You cry, loudly and uglily into the soaked pillow. You cannot reach the pain in your heart eventhough it is tearing you apart. The hairs at the back of your neck are plastered in sweat but you’re shivering with cold. You brace yourself into a ball but your body spasms involuntarily. You are entirely tormented by your own demons, and that is how you finally fall asleep again. Drained.
This is what a heartache feels like.