When you are broken-hearted.
When you have a broken heart, you’ll forget who you are. You’ll lose yourself in the hurt of all the gruesome shards that are stabbing against your lungs and stomach; you’ll be consumed by the sickly feeling you get each time you move and the cuts sting and widen deeper. You’ll cry and beg, and wish you were a different person, a more loveable person, anyone but you. You’ll become obsessed with pitying yourself, intoxicated by this pathetic self-centeredness.
You’ll lie in bed all day and sob. Every little thing will cause your eyes to water. The way the light falls across the empty pillow next to you, the tiny specks of dust circling your face, the pile of clothes that lies limply by your side, discarded in drunken desperation the night before. You’ll force yourself up to drag on a cigarette and with each breath you draw, another tear…
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