I’ve
had many trials, from taking my first flight alone to getting on a roller
coaster for the first time. The most
difficult, by far, was breaking up with a long term girlfriend. At the time, I felt it wasn’t right for me
and little notions of this kept getting into cracks of my psyche. When I sat down to dinner one night, the dam
broke and realization flooded over me in a cold wave. So I stepped away from my relatives into
another room and made the call.
Tears
rolled down my face. Sobs erupted from
my throat. My heart seemed to tear
itself to pieces. I didn’t want to admit
it was over, but confronting this was the right thing to do, I knew. Even then, I still tried to rationalize it
and try to make it work, but we both knew that it was done. I felt ragged and worn, like a washcloth that
had been wrung out and had crusted over, the tears refusing to stop for the
entire night.
The
days that followed were in a horrible limbo.
I rarely smiled, I retreated into the guest room for solitude, and even
when surrounded by my family, I had never felt more alone in my life. Everyone reached out to me, even her, but nothing
could pierce the strange otherness that had taken over me. I checked myself into a depression group when
I found that I had lost my desire to live, but that only made things
worse. Hearing about everyone else
talking about being molested or losing their sons before their time made me
feel like a burden with my small problems and I wanted to stop living more than
ever.
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