With a shattered heart, I cry. I cry like hell. But I am also afraid of someone seeing me. So I made up a mock sad story, that I can tell. This is fun, making up sad stories, and telling to people whoever is asking me. They get satisfied easily. I cannot really tell it to anyone, because it appears that I am the monkey here (I don’t think I am).
Did I make a mistake? I didn’t. I am sure I didn’t. I was sure about us. But then, what changed her I don’t know. What changed her to this extent. I am not saying she broke this heart of mine, please don’t misunderstand me. But I am sure it’s broken. It’s shattered. Shattered to microscopic pieces oscillating in the same way it did before.
I wish I was dead. It would relive me of the pain. But I cannot do a suicide, because in that way, my soul will go straight to hell, and it will be ripped apart in mortal agony, over and over again. It’s better that keep hoping with a broken heart. After all, I am a carbon based life form that will die and get back to nature. So no tension about what will happen.
It’s no use musing anymore about this broken heart of mine. Let is be. Don’t ask questions.
P.S. Dear God, please give me the relationships department, I will make sure no one is in my state. I will make sure it never happens. I guarantee, I can mange this department.