Broken Bodies, Mirrors, and Pain.....

I looked in the mirror and when I saw my eyes I almost lost it. 

I thought I had been handling this breakup well, priding myself on my lack of tears, ignorant of its warning, choosing to believe I had prepared myself well for this pain, but I was wrong.

Behind my eyes I saw a woman who has not stopped crying from the moment we fought. Behind the face I saw in the mirror was the shadow of bloodshot eyes, dark circles, tear stained cheeks, and raw skin. I saw my hidden pain and it almost sent me over the edge.

I found myself pacing my home, mindlessly picking up items only to put them back down. My body on auto pilot while my mind screamed at my blindness.

Why hadn't I seen it?

My chewed fingers covered in chipped nail polish, the rising numbers on the scale, the sleepless nights, the dry patches on my skin, and my inability to care about any of it. Standing there I felt like I was wailing beneath my skin yet my cheeks were dry as my chest heaved with hollow tears.

I imagined what I would see, if I could step outside myself, removing the blinders from my eyes. 

Would I see the two halves of my broken self?

The hollow one seemingly normal, standing, smiling, going through the motions, trying to fool the world and herself, while the other lays crumpled on the floor, her body raked by sobs, her cheeks wet and swollen with tears enough to drown the world.

It’s one thing to know things didn’t work because your just not meant to be, but it’s another to know you didn’t work because you had the potential to be great together.

I saw realization in his eyes that I could make him happy, that he may have found someone who could bring him hope again, someone he could possibly make a future with, and when that realization truly hit him, so did the fear.

He lives in a world of self-made rules, so absolutely sure he’s not meant to be happy that if something comes into his life that has the potential of proving his personal truth wrong, he runs from it. Because to prove his greatest personal truth wrong, would put all his other theories into question.

We are so much alike him and I, but what he doesn’t realize and doesn’t see is that I used to think the way he does and learned the futility of it.

I saw the traps I was laying around myself, the traps of absolutes and categories, and the greatest trap of all, perfection. These traps are like invisible walls, protecting you from getting hurt, yet boxing you in and never allowing you to leave the world you’ve created for yourself. Walls that let you see into the world outside making you believe you’re a part of it, yet keeping you from it. What you created to protect yourself in turn becomes your prison.

I stand outside that prison trying to reach him, to touch him, to show him how to escape, but how can you convince someone of a trap they can’t see. To them you are just a crazy person talking madness and idiotic crap.

I never allowed myself to love till I met him. That love made me a better person, a better woman, a better human being, and it breaks me to know it’s over.

We made a formidable duo and together we cold have ruled the world, but instead I stand with my hand pressed against the glass of his enclosure while he walks away…..

So it's official...