Finding comfort in writing

My life took several unexpected turns recently and I really felt like writing. Yet every time I sat down in front of my laptop, the screen disappeared behind my tears and the immense pain I felt didn't seem to be willing to leave me in the form of words.

It has been a month now although it seems to have happened in a course of just one night, a single nightmare that sent me rolling down the slope of emotions. I haven't been able to stop yet, unable to control my fears, my pain… my life.

You showed up at my door one night to break my heart. In those several words I heard you breaking everything good that we had, crushing our past and our future, pouring a bucket of icy water into the fire of those six short passionate months together that seemed like eternity. That fire was us, and we burned out too quickly.

You came back next day yet I couldn't forgive you. You lost your feelings somewhere along the way and there was no sense to try to mend a tie that was now so weak. I put my ruthless mask on and pushed you away. We both knew it was the right thing to do, and we both still know it.

I didn't realize letting you go from my heart wouldn't be as easy as closing the door behind you. I was strong the first several days because I was mad at you, and determined to stay strong. But days later, my world started falling apart. I tried replacing you with work, taking on more than I could ever handle, with books that I couldn't concentrate on behind the thoughts of you, with friends in whose circle I would end up drunk, getting back home in tears. I watched movies without paying attention to the plot, I listened to the news on the radio and all I could think about was that I wouldn't be able to discuss them with you. Our engaging conversations seem to be the thing that I miss the most, and I'm sure we'll still have those as friends. But then, why does it hurt so bad?

I am trying to let go of my pain today, releasing it through the tips of my fingers, watching it roll gently on the screen, trying to leave it there. I am hoping that the ability to write again is a sign that my heart is starting to recover. Maybe just a little, one step at a time, I will let my demons go.