I admitted to the secret churning within me for as long as I could remember; from the day that the angelic face had been etched into my memory. The burden was mine to carry, this entanglement self-inflicted. I stared at the floor, hoping for the cement to return to its liquid state, for it to engulf me, to solidify and trap me within its depths. It took a lot for me to go back to that day, the one I had meticulously blotted out of my memory, when the accursed words left my lips: “I love you.” The propulsion preceding these words was overpowering, as though I would burst if I didn’t tell him. But now, the intensity of these words hit me, sending an unbearable tingling sensation throughout my body, hardening my very soul.
How ironic it was that, no matter how much heartache I would be forced to endure, this discerned the beginning of my rapid development as an individual. The blinding injustice within this irony marked an inconsolable soul–one that realized what work must be put forth to heal from this agony and the journey that would force me to discover myself in a new light.
The rejection was as straightforward as one can imagine. Even if I was viewed as one of the strongest people, I wasn’t capable of taking a direct blow, and so I immediately resorted to tricking myself into believing I had gained an aversion for him. I didn’t allow myself to be forward with my feelings. Instead, I painted a smile on my face and maintained an overall cheeriness that wouldn’t be fazed by the most brutal putdowns.
Though my external appearance was inscrutable, my internal structure was in as many pieces as drops of water in the ocean. At first, I felt as if I had fallen into a bottomless pit of depression, a point of no return. However, bit by bit, I put myself together again, having to lie to myself countless times in the process, my delusions contributing to a greater cause: upholding my sanity. Somewhere along the road, I grasped the fact that the purpose of me undergoing this experience wasn’t because I had done something wrong that deserved such penalization, but because there comes a time in everyone’s life when their hearts are cruelly shattered by the one they love most.
Those who escape this torture are lucky, indeed, but, to this day, I don’t regret it. I have learned that a heartbreak in my life won’t be detrimental, but, rather, it will allow me the chance of reflecting upon the errors in my blind infatuations and make me a truly strong person, one who has learned to cope with one of the toughest situations. Alas, I wasn’t lucky enough for my first love to be successful, and I ended up ridding myself of the nonsensical aversion I had conjured, knowing I could never, would never hate the one who enraptured me so.
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