Journaling The Depth Of Heartache

I drown myself in the rain and surround myself with trees. When I was walking in the rain, I listened for every car that drove by with the hopes of it being you to rescue my broken heart. I hoped that you would’ve come after me but my phone never rang – it still hasn’t. You killed me; heartbroken is an understatement. The feelings I feel are so complex words cannot describe them. You ripped a blanket off of me and now I’m freezing; it’s so cold and my eyes are so heavy (reference back to ‘The Storm That Uprooted The Tree’ for the poetics of my state). I would’ve never foreseen this – though the past week I’ve sensed it. How truly unexpected – how sad to ruin a perfect relationship with “what-ifs” – how sad to leave the present moment: perfection.

Lonesome white crane; you remain white while wandering through the swamps, in the muck, the dirt, your long legs keep you clean, your wings keep you free; I see myself in you therefore we are one. Your wisdom, faithfulness and vigilance along with your freedom and longevity; you’re my angel-like reminder: you are an angel.

Living with the dead undead is the most difficult part of splitting love; they breathe, they eat, they sleep and we are no longer by their side.  I’m growing immensely from ‘Death Week’ as I sit in this painful purgatory. I go to sleep with false pretenses, with the hope of waking up with you, physically or even spiritually. Pictures and words lie for the moment that once were… waking up with anxiety, staring out the window; I suffer with this. As the day goes by I get stronger, and at the same time I face the hard reality: you fell out of love because you’re lost in the future, because you’re lost within yourself. When you threw me away you tossed way your hopes and dreams as well – your only truth. “You’re the only thing I’m sure of…” said the lost girl. I still believe it as I falsely wish for you to do the same. What you write usually comes true, so here it goes: I want the ever-growing, loving, best friend back by my side; helping and believing in one and other – loving each other into the mysterious dark void. I want my true soulmate back. Find yourself again, my love. The power of true love, it’s enough to improve the world and its people.

An emotional guard has been inhibited in order to survive; I have not hardened but simply made temporal peace with what is – though this will come and go, and heartache supersedes all; a strong sense of self-love begins speaking in my ear reminding me of my worth, reminding me of what I am, of who I am. Whenever I look to the clouds I’m home; whether it’d be night or day.

I’ve grown numb from the pain you’ve caused us. The splitting of two souls is devastating! I’m still in mourning, nothing seems real at times. My mind protects my body and soul to keep living, as does my art, I’m bored with torturous thoughts though I live with the pain daily. At times I dread you, fear your fake voice and new way, disturbing what I attempt to rebuild – until then, if then, I will feel how I feel while in the moment, while living gently.

The puzzle is coming together nicely, I’d rather you not call. Though, every ounce of energy in the universe keeps me thinking the cathartic beginning will occur. It’s as if I had this wonderful dream and I just woke up and said, “Well, that was nice…” and I continue to live without attachment because the pain of reality is unbearable. I don’t want to be left alone sitting on that bench. Love has no logic or reason that is why it’s the upmost frightening. There are times when inaction is necessary for an artist; there are times when one must gaze to the stars – there is a serene reality; they are unknown to many and only appreciated by the few.

I ask myself several times a day, “Did I ever really know you?” I know I trusted you and believed your words; a part of me was taken that I may never get back. I must make peace. I must find meaning.

Let these pages be the stairs to our undying love and appreciation for one and other; may you never miss a step, and if so, I will always catch you.

I hate that you still breathe without me – at times I’m barely breathing…. This is your choice! Not mine! It seems you’re doing fine. You’re a ghost… there is no beauty in these words, only rage, pain, you’ve destroyed us – you’re making me move on and be “open” to someone else; I was more content with you! – And that I always was aware of, this reminds me even more! I didn’t need the reminder… we were doing just fine. You leave, I grieve. Something big is happening.

I am so happy and excited and I want to share it with you but you are gone. You don’t even believe in me so why should I desire to share anything with you. My belief in you made up for your belief in me. I believed so deeply in you but you didn’t believe in yourself. The words you said… an arrow can’t be called back nor can a bullet.

Every day I mourn you – this ‘love of my life’ gone in an instant – my soulmate, my best friend; where did you go? Who are you now?

You’re right, there is no future with me; there is only my present.

A psychological rebirth may be beneficial depending on certain circumstances; unnecessary wanting, lack of belief in oneself or another (which is usually an insecure sense of self); it all deems the need for something “more” or something “new”. Despite these initiatives sounding appetizing when in an existential crisis, in moments of utter despair and confusion we tend to talk poorly to ourselves, old habits rise and it is the time to not listen to yourself talk; they are usually incredibly self-destructive in the moments of fear – I have been taught this and I have observed this within myself. Habits, determination and structure are necessary to see things clearly therefore I see clearly; this doesn’t mean I’m occasionally blinded but I never desire to throw it all away.

With every step backwards comes a step forwards. Through every breakdown is a breakthrough. I’m back to feeling like I’m on the verge of crying every day – I’m in deep pain and I sit with it but I also direly search for the meaning of it. All is heightened.

I’ll never forget the day you left; it was a rainy day like today – it was the day you took your last breath and the day I was left sitting all alone on that cold, wet bench. I had to find meaning yet I still battle daily with that. More importantly the will to overcome had to prevail – the battle with my ego isn’t to be compared to the words you spoke; the pure doubt that arose in you – all due to fear, insecurity and the root of all evil. I surround myself with nature as my survival.

Anger is sadness turned inside out…. Just like words; they are arrows that can’t be called back. 

There’s going to be a time when we cross paths and I won’t know who you are – you’ll be a stranger that resembled the girl that I loved in my dream. This person is now dead and gone. I feel like I see you daily; the thought of you tortures me, my stomach drops constantly – the thought of us sickens me.

There’s a light beyond you – I don’t fear your storm – though you doubt your sails. There will be a time when I’m everywhere; people who don’t want to see me will have to close their eyes to get away from me. I’ll be everywhere. I’m famous; my audience just hasn’t found me yet. I’ve been face to face with you and I don’t intend to look back; it pains me to sit with this but I choose so to liberate my soul from you – I’ll show you what you’ve become since a mirror is not enough. You’ll regret the day your broke my heart.

She once told me, “I was her world”…

I write this to you under the stars with your spirit dead. I’m numb and my eyes are heavy but I still choose to mend. This world is my own and you were just a visitor; which is very hard to say. What became of you…? I don’t know if there is something that doesn’t add up or I’m just looking for a reason to understand your actions. In the end, the stars are a man’s best friend – that and an earthly saint here (our loving mothers) – if you seek heaven, look inside the soul of a good mother.

Waking up with a broken heart is among the most difficult of things. My heart pounds out of my chest, I feel lost without you. I mourn an “old you” – a you that was growing immensely but you chose to remain stagnant. Though sometimes we need to go backwards to go forwards, there is no coming back to this shattered heart.

A lie – I don’t matter to you; we don’t matter to you. You killed us. I’m too tired to even feel anymore. I’ve rode this narcissistic roller-coaster before and I never thought it would be with you. I thought higher of you. I thought you would find yourself but you lack compassion and empathy as a whole. There’s a hole in your heart – you were a charade, the grand manipulator. You drank your poison and now you will die, blindly, or with self-awareness – I don’t know what’s worse. “Not that blood matters anyway,” – I thought we were your true family. The real, grounding, accepting, loving family that took you in, looked after you, raised you! You have no backbone and your actions are that of a monster! You’re gone and I don’t know if you’ll come back… but I won’t wait. And I will survive. If I had the choice: I would’ve had continued having the best time of my life. These past 4 years have been beyond perfect. I never wanted it to end…

I wake up sick to my stomach wishing you’d surprise me. Waking up next to you was my favorite thing. I turn to see you sleeping and it’s just a painful memory. The bench was for the two of us… everyday reminds me of you! You killed us, you killed me… not even a note… the reason it hurts the most is because I never saw it ending. As I lay here on this rainy day, still cold from the lonesome walk, after sobbing hysterically, I find myself more alone than I’ve ever felt. I find myself so full of pain that I’m numb. You broke my heart so badly that it beats differently. I lay in the same spot for hours, your old spot, waiting for death to remind me that she’s not ready for me. Our favorite view has once again become my favorite view; I stare for hours, watching the whole world go by. The sadness is overwhelming that all I wish for is to sleep and magically awake with a different outcome. When you killed me, you also killed a piece of you; you pulled out the roots because you wanted to bloom too quickly – little did you know, we both watered each other and gave one and other adequate amounts of sunlight.

If you want to know what love feels like then read my words. I’ll never forget the day you left me, the day I walked in the rain. My skin chilled like the first Autumn frost – I wished for you to come after me, for this to be a lapse of judgement, a bad dream – it wasn’t; sitting on the bench in the rain was how the concept of time was created because truly the only moment you can feel how precious time is is when your heart is broken. Time only exists in tragedy. I could cry thinking of that feeling; wishing to hear your footsteps, wishing to hear your voice creep upon me, calling me in the middle of the pouring rain; rediscovering your voice, telling me you’re sorry and how much you love me. This nightmare is real – it still haunts me. It is the reminder of who you are – the reminder of who you’ve become. The person you think you know depends on who you think they are… or are they? It depends of them and on you.

If I could tell you how much my heartache haunts me; it’s like you never existed – it’s as if I’ve dreamed this all up; how attached to the dream I was am– what a nightmare it’s become; but in every nightmare is a great story.

I feel lost today… impatient – I’m longing for something to happen. The pain of losing you doesn’t make things easier. It seems as the days go by my disdain for you becomes stronger. How can you live without me? I’m barely living without you. You hurt me several times a day and I haven’t seen or heard from you in months – what power you still have over me. The longer it’s been the more it hurts; it solidifies the death of us even more so – “how two souls act when they part tell whether they belong together” – obviously I belonged to you but you never belonged to me; the truth hurts and love hurts even more.

I used to call you a ghost; now you’re simply a dream, a ghost would’ve had to existed; I never truly knew you, quite simply because there is no you. If you never knew her, how could I?

Girl, who doesn’t believe, let me tell you now: I am and will be one of the most influential beings to ever live; a movie star with a purpose, here to fuck up the system, to promote individuality. How many times must I say this: I’m famous; my audience just hasn’t found me yet…

It’s time… I’m here and strong. “Leaving you was the worst thing I could have ever done,” said the lost girl…. “Giving you my heart was the worst thing I could have ever done,” said the desolate boy.

You painted the picture you’ve always dreamed of; it’s now a reality – the naked and lost girl in the desolate abyss. How does one feel? We truly do sail our own ship, we paint our own canvas. How is it that you sleep fine? Why is it that when I toss and turn in bed I expect to see you or feel your warm body or see your precious face… your face is precious no more; now it is a nightmare. Your precious face is a faint memory, a dream; I dreamt it up because it never truly existed. I slept next to a mask for too many years – make the same face for too long and it’ll be stuck that way forever. Is this what your mother told you? I know that’s what I was told.

What did I do to deserve this? Remember when you told me you didn’t believe in me? Your ghostly words still haunt me – nothing could ever take them away. Remember when I told you I didn’t hate you? I must say this: in the moment I was genuine because I thought you were someone else, but now I know who you are, and if hate and love take both the same effort then I guess I prefer to not love you anymore. You see, love and hate are one in the same, nothing changes, only the name. I’m eternally hurt, forever deceived.

We choose to live after heartache, this shows how much we love life and ourselves; to live after tragedy is truly courageous and what is essential to life, to constantly live, to never give up, rebuilding oneself over and over and over again. This mysterious pain is a lot to bear at times. I’m numb from you and I seek no one – I’m a nomad in the rhythm of the pulsing hearts. Fragments, pieces, that’s all that is left of you. If I can take a few lessons from our relationship they’d be: words are worthless, nothing lasts forever, and you’re truly the best actress ever; you had me completely fooled and you still do… I still have these beautiful memories but I’m so angry because you chose to make them end – who’s the one that taught you attachment is torturous? – That expectations are hazardous? – Though I didn’t have expectations, I “felt it in my gut,” but I guess our gut is many times wrong.

The answer is always right here… I write to release; I’ve cried over you today because you are dead. I devalued my accomplishment once again because I couldn’t share it with you… the one who didn’t believe in me. How masochistic to mourn over someone who never existed. You were a thought, an expectation, you were me… you were what I needed you to be until you couldn’t be it anymore; you were you and knew yourself better as a young girl. I say that I’ll never love again – if a vibrant pink rose can withstand the frost than I too can survive our heartache.

The creative process (creative consciousness) truly evokes me; though we’re all not destined on a path of creative mastery, we are innately creative, not just for survival but for evolution. All of this power we have in our minds, how we can make it a reality, sitting with a pen; thoughts are the fetus and scripture is the birth – and film is the reiterating and remembrance of the combined three. I remember when my most recent film was just a heartbroken thought: Me, standing alone in a field… I just buried you – now it’s a work of art, now it’s a lesson to be learned in a form of purposeful entertainment. I wanted to hold onto this project direly – this project is me putting you to rest. I will live with a broken heart and you will live with a broken mind. But don’t worry – I’ll be just fine.

You’re a distant memory yet you’re at the forefront of my pain – I have forgotten what it’s like to be so attached, so in love; I’m happy I can’t remember because I’m too busy loving myself. I know what I long for reliving the memorable times we had – I mourn you like a death; I seek liberation in doing the same things we once did – I keep holding onto a person that was never there.

I’ve written you several times but I feel this may be the last time… I felt the loneliest I’ve ever felt today; it was a familiar feeling that scares me to the bone. In these moments I choose to do anything and everything to avoid the thought of what you did to us; I love you with all my heart – I say this to the girl who was my best friend, now I write to a new you, a person I’ll never know and don’t desire to know. Words can’t articulate how much you hurt me; my film does a great job though. Whether you watch it or not; I conveyed how I feel in an art form, more than just words – destroyed, confused, lost, and desolate. You hurt me so badly; I genuinely thought I was going to be with you forever – even though I feared the conformity of monogamy. You showed who you really are; a narcissistic demon like the cards you were dealt. I’m done with you, I’m done crying over you; you don’t deserve my tears. When I cry it’ll be simply because of the gratitude of how strongly I’ve loved without any restraints; an experience that not all has or chooses to let themselves have. I thought I was mourning the dead, I was mourning the living – the girl I loved never truly existed… she was an actor of all actors. You should have never put on the mask – you choose darkness, facelessness. I’ve lost interest in writing this – bye.

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