Painful Happiness

Heart wrenching pain.

Seeing the white blank page and the blinking cursor on my screen, I knew I couldn't write properly the things I wanted to write on my pending stories. My thoughts were just too occupied with the things that hurt my feelings. I sighed loudly before slamming the laptop close. I rub my face, closed my eyes, furrowing my brow, and tears started to fall down my cheeks as slow as my world turns. I could not expound what my heart wants to feel. I could not even understand my own stabbing thoughts.

There was too much hate and at the same time too much love that I could not bring myself to hate her for what she did. I knew that too much of everything would drown me in and swallow me up whole. I could tip the balance of that bitter sweetness and I could drown in sorrow. I could tip the balance of that lovely sadness, and I could drown in my own regrets.

And neither was too good nor too bad. I couldn't decide which would be the best thought for me to think of the situation she gave me.

Was I to forget and forgive her? Or was I to forget and leave her?

It both sounded painful. I could forget and forgive her, but I know my trust for her would be fatal. I could forget and leave her, but I love her too much to hate her that much.

My eyes close, I slid my hand up to my hair and gripped it, exhaling so loud. Thinking of hoping to exhale the thoughts away. I opened my eyes, staring straight right through the white ceiling, burning imaginary holes in it.

What was I to do?

Suddenly my phone rang. I looked at it for awhile, letting it vibrate. I knew who it was, I wanted to answer her call, but I wasn't ready to answer her yet. I wasn't ready to hear her, I wasn't ready to face her. I wasn't ready with my thoughts.

I sat there, staring at my phone vibrate again in her second call. My arms slacked in my lap, the absence of energy drowned out of me. I close my eyes again, the painful pound in my heart, beating at its stinging rhythm.

Within that second, I felt devoid. I felt the anger, I felt the nothingness. And I hated.

Hated that she brings me my weakness, but at the same time I love her because she makes me happy. She made me feel all the things that I couldn't reach. And its like she has the control over my weakness and my strength.

And I hated the fact, once again, that I did not know what to do.

Rage just fills me up because of me. I clench my fist without me knowing, and I shoved the things out of the table, I was so angry, so furious that I felt it once again. The nothingness, the devoid that I didn't know when and why it started. I hated not knowing what to do and think. I hated it.

I couldn't contain my anger that I punched the wall hard that I heard my knuckles crack.

"Ugh f**k!", I recoiled and hissed. "F**k!"

Tears of both pain from my knuckles and sadness, rolled down my cheeks. I flopped down the floor, small streaks of reddish wound open, and the bruises that began swelling in pain, throbbing with the pulse.

I sobbed, my phone vibrating again on its third on the floor. I did not want to bother picking it up. Its too painful to hear her voice. It reminds me of what she did. And I don't want to go through that again. The painful, heart wrenching memory of what happened between her and her ex.

Its just too painful knowing that I gave everything to her that she did not know of. And I sucked up every pain she brought to me, because that's how I love her.

I found myself standing in the middle of the bathroom, my mind having its own accord, my throbbing hand, numb from the ache. I glanced towards the sink, the blade I used to cut myself was still there. Then I glanced at my other good arm, and saw the faded long scars.

I sighed loudly and went to the sink, picking up the blade.

I stood there, blade in hand, staring at it long and hard. Glancing up at my reflection on the mirror, I look like a mess. Dark eyebags, hollow devoid eyes, lips so dry, thin. I haven't properly eaten for a day and a half now. I couldn't bring myself to eat while my heart is crushed to pieces.

I glanced back at the blade in my hand, and sigh, placed it back in the side of the faucet, and decided to wash my face.

Splashing my face with the cold water that came out of the faucet, I thought again from my million thoughts, if we go on like this, everyday would be an emotional chaos. But maybe if I give her time to sort out her thoughts. Give her what she wants, time. And let her decide who she loves more.

I admit I don't like it. But, what could I do if this keeps on going? The pain, the sadness? I'd be helpless in the end if she decided to suddenly go back to her ex-girlfriend. Giving her time to think, would mean I could easily forget and let go of her when she decides to go back to her ex. It may hurt, but it would be just be like a crumpled piece of paper thrown and forgotten.

I looked up at the mirror, closing the faucet, I stared deep into my dark brown eyes. I exhaled shakily, my hands gripping the edge of the sink. I bowed my head, I felt again the stinging throb in both my hands and heart. I swallowed the pain that caused my heart to beat like this, and endured the throbbing sense on my hand. I close my eyes, and furrow my brow. Forcing the tears back, not letting it roll down my cheeks. I exhaled hugely, and opened my eyes, looking at my reflection, I could feel the tears of sorrow sucked in deep in my chest. It was palpitating twice its rhythm. My grip on the edge of the sink tightened.

I would be feeling this thing again and again if I don't give her what she wants. Time. And, as happy I was to feel this for her, I don't think I would be okay emotionally.

I ran back to my work room and grabbed my phone on the floor. I had four miss calls, but no messages. My hands hovered above the messaging app, but I stopped. I look at my books on the shelves, and thought again for the umpteenth time.

Is this right? Will she be happy? Will she come back? I shook my head. No. I should not be thinking if she will come back. Whatever she decides, if it makes her happy, I'll accept it. Even if it means I won't be part of it.

I didn't like my decision. But that was the only way to clear her thoughts up. Giving her time.

I exhaled again, and mustered up the courage to text it. Ready for the waiting game.

"One month and four days. I'll give you time."