No one ever tells you that when your heart breaks, you can feel it.
It's like a sharp cut and then a burning pain and then it feels like hell itself will swallow you whole.
You want to do anything to make the pain stop.
You don't want to feel anything, even happiness because of the pain that inevitably comes with it.
Because for every good moment there's a thousand bad ones waiting to catch you by surprise.
Waiting to kill you in the blink of an eye.
No regrets.
No moral ambiguities.
No guilty conscience abiding by the sound laws of humanity.
Only immeasurable anguish.
Everyone tells you that you're just one broken heart closer to finding the one.
But really, it's just another broken heart.
And with every broken heart, a little piece of you dies inside.
And you're the one that has to live with it.
Not him.
Not your friends.
Not even God.
You alone have to carry the pain and try to regain some semblance of a normal life.
You have to pick up the pieces and move on, because that's what it means to be strong.