Now///
I hate this. I hate feeling this emptiness in my heart, especially when it was never full to begin with.
I hated that I hated him but then I hated that I didn't hate him.
He unknowingly broke my heart, even though it was my fault. I did it to myself but I like to pin the blame on him so I have a reason to be upset, with him and with myself.
And I hate that every time I walk in the room I have to see him there acting like nothing happened, which I guess to him, it didn't. But to me, everything is falling apart.
I avoid looking at him as much as possible but it's a hard habit to break and I'm only making things worse, pretending that it'll get better. Whenever I see him now, my heart doesn't do the usual skip thing it used to do, I don't feel that fuzzy feeling whenever we make eye contact. All I feel now is sadness and regret. It's ruined him for me. But still, I keep looking at him hoping maybe the feelings will change. But they don't and they probably never will. Habit is a great deadener.
I stopped eating for a week. He won't know that. I didn't completely starve myself, I ate the bare minimum. My stomach felt so weird every time I saw him I thought I was going to be sick. My friends all though I was just ill. Maybe I was. Maybe I was ill with heartbreak. My impromptu no eating diet didn't last long sadly. The week after was worse. I ate everything and anything; except cheese, I still hated cheese.
I bought myself chocolate; the big bars. I got ice cream too and pizza. I got just about every junk food there was to try and eat away the pain but that didn't work. It only made me feel worse and bloated.
I also cried a lot. I still cry. In fact, crying has become so common that it's a constant thing now. It's strange for me not to cry at least once a day. I'm convinced I'm going to run out of tears at this rate. I feel guilty for crying. For wasting my tears on something so stupid that will hopefully one day seem so irrelevant and minuscule I'll laugh about how stupid I was. I feel guilty for crying over him when he probably doesn't even care, about the situation or me. I also feel guilty for spilling these buckets of tears when there's droughts occurring over the world and I'm wasting them on him.
What happened ruined me, as much as I hate to admit. It shouldn't have. I was always told I didn't need a boy to define me, to make me happy or care for me. I could that all myself but I didn't want to. I wanted him but he didn't want me.
And now I'm broken. And I'm falling to pieces.