poetry

breakups

the feeling is "oh".

and it hits you right in your gut and you stumble on your feet because "oh", you can't tell him. even though it's something he would've found funny and laughed at, you can't tell him. and it hurts and your chest hurts and you are once again thinking of him. and you have to rebuild yourself up again because there's phones ringing and customers walking in and you have to work, but your brain is on overdrive thinking of him so you stutter on your words and give delayed answers to impatient customers. and you have to once again try your best to push it to the back of your mind but as time passes on and work slows down, you are no longer busy and there are no more distractions so who is going to stop the rampage of thoughts in your head?

and you think, "it was my decision. deal with it. work."

break ups are like the car ride to your aunts with you brother. he talks and talks about anime about music and you give replies but they're shorter than they usually are and they aren't as enthusiastic because your mind is still running a mile a minute. did you make the right choice? maybe you should've been in the car with him right now and not your brother. maybe you should be driving down these streets and then making that left there to go to his. maybe things should be different.

and then you think, "this is the decision i made. the right is the turn that has to be made so deal with it."

break ups are liking walking through your aunts door and the first words you hear are "yeah, where's your boyfriend?" from your other brother who knows that you guys broke up. he says it to get a rise out of you, to tease you, but he doesn't know. he doesn't know how hard you've been trying to keep it all down. to keep it all locked up in a cage. and just that little joke was enough to make your cage splinter and crack and so you snap at him and you sit down on the couch and you give short, curt answers to your family because if you talk anymore than three words you're going to cry and you know this. but your eyes betray you and they water and deep breaths are inhaled to keep them at bay but they keep coming back and you don't want to cry right in front of your family so god, what do you fucking do? and your brain keeps thinking about him and all the memories and how you made the wrong choice.

and you think, "well, it's the choice i made. i have to deal with it."

break ups are like sitting on your aunts cold bathroom floor on new year's eve, legs pulled up to your chest and arms wrapped around them as you cry. it's keeping your sobs quiet because your family is right in the other room and you can't let them know how much your breaking inside. the tears fall and they fall and they fall and there's no comforting hug this time, only you and your thoughts and the faint voices of your family. and you keep thinking, "i thought i made the right decision, so why am i in here crying right now?" and it hurts and you hate it and you want it to stop, want everything to stop. and then your friend texts you and you spill your guts out to them. and more and more tears fall and snot runs down your nose and your thoughts are now written down on a wet screen, thumbs flying at a rapid pace. one message after another, they all are transferred and you break down even more as you type but you need it all out, you need to tell someone, you need to get this out of you. and your friend says "i know it hurts, and it will. but this is what you wanted."

and that plunges straight into your heart because it was what you wanted. you were so sure beforehand, albeit nervous, you were sure this is what you needed to do. but now, sitting on that bathroom floor, is that what you wanted?

and so you type some more and get the thoughts out again and your friend replies and comforts and it's enough to let you finally leave the bathroom after thirty minutes to return to your family.

and as you walk back into the room, you think, "it was my decision. i have to deal with it."

break ups are like having moments where it feels okay. you laugh and play games with your family. you joke with the brother you were just snapping at an hour ago. you text intermittently with the friend who helped you. and maybe it all isn't so bad. it's in the back of your mind, of course it is, but it doesn't feel like it's screaming.

so you think, "it was my decision. it'll be okay."

and then the clock ticks closer to 12. and with each passing moment, the realization that you'll be going into the new year without him is like a slap to the face. and then your mind is racing again. it's feet slam down, echoing thoughts of "i should be at his house right now. i shouldn't be here" and "i made the wrong decision. i should be with him". and you think "maybe i could get to his house in time for midnight, i could show up."

but who are you to do that? who are you, after breaking his heart, to show up and pretend like everything will be fine? because you decided you made the wrong choice? because you want to take it all back? who are you to be so selfish?

and so you think, "this is my decision. i have to deal with it."

break ups are like your eyes stinging with warm, wet tears as the count down starts. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1... happy new year! and the people on tv kiss and hug and hold each other. and it hurts because you think that you should be kissing him, you should be hugging him, you should be holding him. but you're not. and you won't be. so you sit there, as your mom gives you a hug, faintly responsive. you give her a slight squeeze in return. you just want to go home. you want to crawl into bed and sleep sleep sleep.

you're tired. so, so tired.

but even tired, you think, "this was my decision. i have to deal with it."

break ups are like checking your phone every minute to see if you would be getting a happy new years text from him. and as each minute passed and your screen is still blank, it digs a knife deeper into you. it's stupid, you think, to expect something that you know won't be there. it's selfish to even expect one. to even want one. but it is wanted. and that's how you feel. but how you feel doesn't matter.

"because", you think, "this was my decision. i have to deal with it."

break ups are like crawling into bed on a new years night and already feeling miserable. instead of tossing and turning, the exhaustion of it all hits you as soon as you hit the pillow and you fall asleep. and when you wake up, you check your phone for that damn text. and when it's not there, you go to write this catastrophe.

and you just think to yourself,

"it was my decision. i have to deal with it."