As he glanced into my crestfallen, azure eyes, pain trickled down my forsaken soul. I gazed at his cracked lips as they unfastened to reveal the bitter truth. That’s when it struck me…
It felt as if lightning ricocheted throughout my entire body; similar to the agonizing torture of thousands of wounding bullets penetrating my soft, pale skin. I gasped. Tears shredded onto my frigid cheeks as I stood there like a statue, completely lost in translation. I thought the world had stopped revolving around me… for the briefest moment, I believed all the clocks had frozen.
These unspoken words floated around time and space, searching for a place to rest. But the fifteen piercings of lustrous shiny gold from the richest parts of South Africa and the shimmering diamonds surrounding the exterior of my sensible ears were not enough to protect me from what I had just heard.
As those last three words flew out of his shy lips, mine remained wide open. I tried to speak, but I could not say anything, the harrowing pain was too present. My shattered heart, filled with dingy dark blood, skipped a beat as I stood there, weak in the knees trying not to fall to the pulverized cement. Not a single fragment of my stereotypically rejected body could move. I gasp for even the smallest bit of air, but I have yet to catch my breath. I gaze into his tear-filled hazel eyes, hoping his lips uncover something more; I’m eagerly awaiting the moment he tells me it’s a joke, but that time never comes. How could he have done this?
By what means is it possible for one of God’s creations to inflict so much excruciating pain? How can a pure heart as kind as my own be broken into one million little pieces? What did I do to deserve to be treated in such a harsh and brutal manner? When I hear his name my wounds reopen, and my heart breaks again. Love is meant to be used for good, but why is it my worst enemy? Even the word frightens me.
Two years later and I find myself here, replaying every last memory I have of him over and over again; all for a meaningless smile. But no smile can make up for the rivers I’ve cried; Surgeons can’t fix the countless cuts remaining on my body; Therapists can’t erase these thoughts of loneliness from my brain. No person can make me feel like myself again, except one: Him. The thought of having him back, even for the briefest of moments, fills my brain with happiness. For love is a drug, and he is my dealer.