How could it be?

A Story by Nourhane

Short story about a girl and how she changed, it does not include names or places, it's very random and is mostly expressing feelings and things others may be going through too.

How could it be?

How could she be that hurt?

How could someone feel so much pain and not scream?

How could someone be that much of a wreck?

She woke up with pillows under her eyes, she looked at herself in the mirror to see nothing other than damage. She woke up and stared at her own reflection, the dark and bruised-like color under her eyes was never that normal to her, or was it? Maybe she'd always had it but have forgotten about it too, like all the other things she forgot, or maybe she never noticed it in the first place. She didn't know. She knew nothing about everything. All she knew was that she didn't care. Not anymore. She didn't care how awful she looked, or how hurt she seemed, because it was true, she is hurt, and she will hide it no more. She looked again at herself and remembered, that same time last year. When she had her first heartbreak, when winter was the globe she hated most, when rain seemed to be a combination of depression and cluelessness, when coffee meant nothing to her all day, when it was the first day she looked less than perfect around the school, when both her parents were alive and well, when she met someone different, when she met someone new, when he bumped into her that day of when she thought she looked like a mess.

On that day when she felt like a mess, when he apologized gently. When her eyes were wet and her hair was pulled back and she had no makeup on. On the day she was most herself. On the day when he asked if she was fine even though he knew nothing about her, even though she was a stranger to him. On the day she felt like a teen movie cliché. On the day he took her notebook by mistake after English class, because she was "a mess" as she claimed that day and wasn't paying attention. On the day he was philosophical and said "a little mess is a lot of beauty" and then walked away. On the day she met not her first love, but the love of her life. On the day her hope and belief was renewed. On the day that was so gloomy, she didn't believe it when the skies were turning blue. She thinks no longer of her first love, true. But that's only because she thinks her second is more, your second love is the one that actually makes you believe love won't be found as easily as you thought, it's the one that makes you understand that heartbreak is not final nor is it fatal. That's why your second love is most of the time, your truest and purest versions of love.

Now, on the same day, today, she has woken and started searching for her mom, then she remembers, she's already long gone, a victim of cancer. On the same day, today, she hasn't wept, cried, or shed a tear, but she has watched raindrops race on her window and thought it the true meaning of beauty and simplicity. On this day, today, she's holding her coffee cup which she never used before, patting the dog she got two days ago, staring into nothingness and void. On this day, today, she's looking at herself in the mirror, to remember what she looks like, or at least what she looked like. On this day, today, she doesn't think she's a mess. On this day, today, she knows she's a wreck. That's okay. It has some philosophy in it, that maybe she might've seen if only, not everything she touched ended up grey and dead. On this day, today, she grabs a pen and a paper, and writes "I've been in this foreign land way too long, it's time i go home to all of my lost ones." She cursed herself and damned the day of her birth, lit up the last cigarette she'd ever smoke, then opened her wrists with curiosity, yet felt no pain, and repeated the process on the left hand. "This will only hurt for a while." Was the last thing she whispered to herself.

So some may think heartbreak is the worst, but there was something greater than that, there was something greater than she was, and greater than she'd ever been. She did not suffer heartbreak. She suffered heartache.

© 2015 Nourhane

Author's Note

Please note any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes and be sure to write your very honest opinion:)

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Featured Review

Echoes of Eros

Your voice breathes such shadows and mist into her life, into the agony of loving and being broken. We see so clearly through the eyes of the narration, and can feel this horrible pain that would strip away all desire to live. I've been in those waves of suffering, and ache at the thought of anyone else feeling such brokenness. xo