I felt that feeling in the upper half of my chest that I get when men break up with me. I would say it was my heart that was aching, but we all know that isn’t literally it. The feeling can only be described as a physical cry out for help, from the inside out. It’s a selfish feeling for it will not allow you not to cry – regardless of circumstances, where you are or who you are with. That feeling doesn’t care about you.
I sat in the chair on the left, as naturally it’s been determined that people of a powerful stature sit on the right, not expecting to feel that ache again. Breathing does not help it, walking does not help it. Crying extensively just does not help it. Time helps, but time is a fickle thing. It “doesn’t have the time to give you all the answers to the never-ending ‘why?‘”. Why am I special that I get to complain about my rejection? My doctor has me on anti-depressants. I am depressed, so thus I am allowed to complain. I am allowed to justify that I feel things a lot more than what you do merely because I am “depressed”[this is utter bullshit].
Before I end my ridiculous rant that is illegible, I pose you these questions: What is life to you? Do you move cities and countries in hope to find your happy ending? Do you feel as though you’re constantly running at warp speed trying to find something? Is that a normal feeling? Is it normal to feel as though you’re being kicked in your phantom balls nearly every single day because you clearly are not good enough to compete with the rest of them? Maybe I’ve lied to myself so much that I actually believe the running is good. I don’t need anyone, I was born alone and I will most certainly die that way.