The broken

And for some strange reason, I couldn't write anymore... it felt like the words were stuck in my neck, in my fingers, about to go out but never actually doing it. I just thought about him and his perfect image hit me with such strength that I thought for a second that he really wanted to destroy me.

- What is that you want to ask? He asked calmly and I seriously wanted to get crazy on him. I wanted to start breaking everything in the house if we would've had a house; I wanted to know if all that was worth, all the pain, the problems, the discussions. I wanted him to assure me that all that I was giving up for him was worthy because he loved me, and if not then I wanted to know if our relationship was falling and if it wasn't just me overthinking.

But I was just too afraid to ask: "Do you still love me?", "Have you ever loved me?", "What am I for you?" Those questions that I asked him in one or another way many times before and always seemed to get the wrong answers; and for the first time ever I was too tired to get along with his silence, with his secrets, with his mystery, I was drained. There was the man whom I was offering my whole life but I wasn't sure whether he even loved me.

- You're not ready for this. I am not ready for this. I answered begging to the sky for him not to insist, not to ask again, not to break my heart in such a cruel way; because this was the last time I'd allow him such imprudence, if he'd insisted, I'd had to let him go even if I wasn't ready to do so.

- I am ready for anything, just ask me. He said and I really wished he was ready for the question I was going to make because my heart was hanging by a thread.

- Do you love me? I felt how all my pride fell to the floor because I never listened to that from him but had to ask myself; I felt my heart getting broken into thousands and thousands of pieces because his silence said it all; I felt my world falling apart because I'd built up my whole life around him because he meant everything... absolutely everything to me; but if he wasn't loving me at that point, there was nothing that could ever make him love me. I already gave him all I could, there was nothing left for me to offer him so that he could love me.

- Let's talk tomorrow. That was his answer and it hit me like a bucket of cold water, no... it was more like snowballs hitting me strongly on a winter day in the coldest place in the world anyone can imagine. I lost it all after that.

After that everything changed... I just felt how in a matter of seconds my depression got deeper in such a way that was scary but I didn't have the guts to tell him why. I didn't want to pressure his feelings on me, but I also didn't want to go on in a relationship with someone that doesn't love me, nevertheless, I couldn't let him go. I didn't want to give up on him but by going against the waves I was hurting myself deeply. 
I started living in hell day after day, even when life was hell since a long time ago don't ask me how it suddenly became just worse; the freshwater that he was throwing in my days suddenly stopped refreshing me. And even when I didn't mean to, my pain spread so much that it reached him.

The days passed by and I felt I was turning into a real danger to myself, this whole situation was out of my hands and I just needed it to stop. Whether emotionally or physically I was being killed by my own hand.

- What can I do? What do you want me to do? He asked insistently and I felt over and over again how the words refused to pop up, how they hid inside my heart preventing another homicide; instead, he was also struggling because of my silence.

- Nothing, really. I couldn't ask him to love me... it was useless.

- I'll do whatever you ask me to, I put my life in your hands. He said so sweetly but his words sounded like a lie. Why would someone that doesn't love me offer me such a huge thing as his own life? Whether he loved me but couldn't acknowledge it, or I was missing a point and couldn't get to it unless he himself would explain it to me. There was something wrong in all that I couldn't tell exactly what was it... 
I was just making him unhappier, making myself unhappy, making us unhappy, until one day he decided it was enough and throw me away expecting me to go back crawling to him... not keeping in mind that I didn't even have the strength to crawl back then. Even with all the love stored in my heart for him, I didn't have the power to go through all our turbulences while knowing I wasn't being loved. I could take anything from him, except for him not feeling me at all.

I was just way too broken to make anything right... but that he couldn't see it. He was way too broken to make anything right at that very moment as well... but I just couldn't see it.

(Photo and drawing by Madelaine Bustamante)
How does a romantic fall out of love?