Turn the lights off on your way out...

Today started off like any other Sunday. I slept in, ate a little something, and headed to my sorority meeting. While driving I began to feel a little queasy, but that wasn't uncommon considering my mental circumstance. I had taken on the challenge of not thinking of him today. It was going quite well. I had only cried twice.

As I sat through the meeting, my stomach pain became more intense. So once the meeting was over, I drove myself home. I figured this either meant Mother Nature was coming early or my body was finally feeling the wrath of my broken heart. Just as a precaution, I prepared myself for the former, took 2 Advil, and laid down.

I curled up in a ball and quickly drifted off to sleep. I woke up approximately an hour later stunned, because my sweats were drenched in blood. I went to the bathroom and attempted to clean myself up, but the pain came back with a vengeance. I washed up as best I could, grabbed my purse, keys, and a trash bag for my car seat and drove myself to urgent care.

Thank God it was only around the corner. I staggered into the emergency room and just as I was about to collapse an orderly caught me and broke my fall.

I don't remember the specifics, but there were people talking, the room was moving, and my stomach was throbbing. I had no clue what was going on. I think I asked a nurse, but I don't think she answered me. All I remember is everything going dark and then silence.

I woke up sometime later in a hospital bed wearing one of their peek-a-boo gowns with an IV in my arm. I still felt nauseous, but I also felt extreme soreness, and I was groggy as hell. Just before I could hit the call button, a beautiful Hispanic nurse walked in. She saw me fidgeting and said, "Good you're awake, we were beginning to worry." I swallowed hard, but my mouth was dry so it took a moment to get the words out. "Worry?" I quizzed. "What is wrong with me?"

Looking flustered, the nurse hesitantly replied, "The doctor will be making his rounds soon, you can talk to him about that." She continued to check my vitals. Just as she finished documenting my blood pressure, I touched her hand and barely above a whisper I uttered, "Please."

My eyes must have communicated how desperate I was for answers because her expression softened and I could tell she was trying to choose her words wisely before answering, "The baby didn't make it." I didn't say a word, because they escaped me. "You had a miscarriage." she said trying to help me make sense of her previous statement.

After what seemed like a long pause I said, "That can't be possible. I had a cycle after the last time I had sex." I shook my head in disbelief. "Some women have a menstrual cycle their entire pregnancy. It's rare, but not impossible." she said softly while searching my face for understanding.

"Oh my God!" was all I could manage as I placed my hands over my mouth. Millions of thoughts, questions, and memories flooded my mind. But the reoccurring question was "Should I call him?" And that indeed was a conundrum. He and I hadn't spoken in so long, I didn't want him to feel like this was a ploy to get him back. More importantly, I didn't want him hanging around because he felt sorry for me either.

Nevertheless, I was alone, and I wanted him there; more out of friendship than anything else. I desperately needed a friend right now, and he was the ideal candidate, because this was his loss too. Our loss.

Even though neither of us was ready for a child, we had created one. My imagination began to run wild. I envisioned a beautiful caramel complexioned little girl with sandy brown hair and a smile that would light up a room. Or a hazel eyed little boy who was the spitting image of his father.

Realizing this would never be, hurt more than I would have thought possible. I should have been relieved, but I wasn't. And I cried silently. What is so wrong with me that even a child who shared half of my DNA didn't want me either?

I hadn't noticed, but the nurse had reappeared, or maybe she had never left. I couldn't be sure, but she walked over and handed me 2 pills. "The white one is for the physical pain, and the light blue one is for the emotional...stress." she finished, again choosing each word carefully. I took both without saying anything. "Are you alright?" she asked as if she already knew the answer.

"When can I go home?" I asked dryly. "In a few hours." she said cheerfully. "We want to monitor you a bit more." she concluded. I rolled over and faced away from her.

"Ma'am is there anyone we can call?" she asked the loaded question genuinely.

"No!" I snapped unintentionally. "Ok. Anything else?" she said lightly, obviously not taking offense to my previous answer. "Turn off the lights on your way out." my voice quivered.

Darkness

The Diary of a Brokenhearted Girl

Late Night Email Alert

I came home from the club slightly inebriated. I stumbled over every chord or wire in my apartment as I made my way to the bathroom to relieve myself.

(Ever since this break up (for lack of a better word), I have developed a slight drinking problem. Before you judge me, try to understand my pain. I am irrevocably in love with a man who does not love me back. At least not the way I love him, and if he does and I use the word if cautiously; he has never told me nor do I see it in his actions. I have been hurt many times, and I thought this was different. Wrong. He played me. Imagine that for a moment, and see if you fancy a drink or two from time to time. Back to today's events)

I washed my hands and stumbled back to the living room, humming "Break Up" by Mario. (oh the irony) As I reach the sofa, I kick off my heels, pull my dress over my head and throw myself on the waiting couch cushions. I grabbed my sorority blanket and curled up on the couch. I turned on the television, but I don't remember what was on because I was not really paying attention.

I must have nodded off because when my Blackberry rang with its familiar email alert I was startled. Since my BlackBerry is synced with my personal email, I knew that whomever was emailing me was someone I was either related to or knew me personally. With that in mind, I did not hesitate to check it.

Now imagine my surprise when I read his name in the from box. My heart was racing, my palms were sweating, and I froze. I didn't know whether to shit or shine my shoes. Should I delete it? I didn't know, but if I did I would wonder about it for all the days of my life. Funny but the subject line read "please don't delete." I chuckled a little, because he knew me too well. Then I sighed loudly at the thought.

My eyes kept scrolling back and forth looking at the name and subject line for what seemed like hours, but I know it was not. Finally I got the courage to check it, and it read:

My love,
I know I shouldn't be writing this, but in lieu of the text message I got from you last night, I knew I had to respond. Your words troubled me all day, but the answers you seek I cannot give you. All I can say is that I need space. I am not ready to be who you deserve me to be. I have much growing to do. I will always care for you, more than you know.

You are now and always will be "the perfect verse over a tight beat."

He'd always ended every text, email, card, or letter that way ever since we had seen the movie. He knew it was my favorite line.

Reading that email re-opened the wound, and lined it with salt.

P.S. When I woke up in the morning and attempted to re-read it, it was gone.

The Diary of a Brokenhearted Girl

A Drunken Text

My new pillow-top mattress had become the most uncomfortable place on earth. My bed seemed crowded even though I was the only one in it.

Search as I may, there was no comfort zone to be found. Then I began sweating profusely. It was hotter than summertime in hell in that room; yet I was longing for his arm around my waist or his chest under my face. I missed him. The tears began to well up in my eyes again, or were my eyeballs sweating?

I checked the temperature and the meter read a cool 65 degrees. How could that be; when I was obviously burning up? I shrugged it off and quickly set the automatic dial to 60 and continued to navigate my way through the darkness to the refrigerator. I poured myself a glass of Bacardi...ok maybe it was 3 or 4 glasses, but no matter.

I maneuvered my way through the darkness and sat on the couch. I grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. I don't know what I was expecting see on the television, but I know what I got; teenage love stories and soft core porn. All those did was cause the tears to fall more, but I saw no point in fighting it so I let them flow. I picked up what had to be my 5th or 6th glass of Bacardi and drank it way too fast. Even the stray tears falling into the glass did not deter me, and within a matter of minutes the glass and the bottle were both empty, just like my spirit.

I looked again at the screen and saw the couple making love and it dawned on me, it had been nearly 2 months since I'd felt the touch of man or the pleasure of an orgasm. "Fuck him" I screamed at the television. No matter what channel I turned to there was some form of love or coital bliss being displayed. Even on telemundo there was a confession of love going on that even I, being the non-Spanish speaker that I am, could understand them clearly. From their lover's exchange to the first moment their lips touched, it was obvious there would be no sanctuary on the television screen for me. The eye waterfall began to flow like the Niagara and I let them. Finally, I hit the power button.

For a few moments I just sat there sniffling in complete darkness. Looking for some type of distraction, I focused my attention on a nearly full pantry. "I could eat myself into a coma." I thought. But considering all the working out I'd been doing that would not have been wise. Besides, the next time we meet, I want him to see what he's missing. At that thought a slight smile crept up on my lips. My head started to spin as the Bacardi was just now kicking in, in full force I might add.

I looked to my right and saw my Blackberry. I quickly grabbed it to check for any missed calls or texts...nothing. I went to my saved texts and read some of the sweet messages he'd sent me, which now seemed so long ago. My mouth was dry, my stomach was tight, I felt like I might vomit. But once I regained control of my senses, I hit the reply button and typed a text that read:

You fucking bastard, why did you do this to me? You begged me to trust you, promised you wouldn't hurt me, and here I sit broken, in mind, body, and spirit. I let my guard down and let you in and you hurt me. What did I do to deserve this? I gave you more than I've ever given anyone in a very long time and you used me. How could you? I would have done anything and everything for you don't you realize that? What did you want that I was not giving? What did you need, that I neglected? Why take from me if you knew you never intended to give back? Why bother with formalities, I would have fucked you anyway had you just been honest about what it was? I'm grown.
Why did you pretend to care for me, to want me, to want me to want you then take it all away from me? I told you what I'd been through, I shared my pains with you, but you inflicted a new pain of your own. I've cried a million rivers over you and I will probably cry a million more. I loved you, yes I loved you. So tell me what happened, you owe me at least that much.

Send

Just then a flash of rational thought hit me. I was sure I was going to regret this in the morning. "What have you just done?" I whispered. But before I could fully think it through, sleep overwhelmed me and I passed out on the couch.

The Diary of a Brokenhearted Girl

Day 23...down for the count

I wake up 2 hours before my alarm goes off and stare at the ceiling. Re-engulfed in the pain that was temporarily sedated by the tears and sleeping pills which have now worn off. I lay here thinking about the whys, the how comes, and the what ifs. Driven only by the common sense that my job pays the bills, I reluctantly climb out of bed.

Now just because I'm moving doesn't mean I'm over it. It simply implies that I am capable of compartmentalizing. I stare at my swollen, sob ridden face and the only word I can muster is "damn!". I examine my puffy eyes and swollen cheeks; run my fingers across the now dry tear lines. Immediately, my fingertips acknowledge the new dampness that has made its way from the corners of eyes back down the familiar path ending under my chin. "Pull your self together baby girl." I say to myself barely above a whisper.

I grab a face towel from the linen closet, and turn on the cold water. Once the towel is completely wet, I carefully place it on my swollen apenditures. First my eyes, then my cheeks. I hold it there just long enough for the coolness to contrast and alleviate some of the swelling. The cold compress jolts me, but I do not move. After reapplying it 2 or 3 more times, I give myself a once over and see that my face is somewhat back to normal. I sigh.

I turn on the shower, drop my robe and step into the steaming hot water flow. The sound of the water mixed with the allure of the heat embrace my body and mind as I try to separate myself from last night's memories. Totally immersing myself into the momentarily bliss, I begin to sing,
"Very sentimental
And my cryings detrimental,
Tell me what I’m getting into,
I can’t lose my mind.
I think its time for me to let go cause my heart can’t take it no mo,
You were all I lived for but I leave you behind."

Before I could get out the most important line a huge lump built up in my throat and I was silent. Fighting back tears confirmed that I would not be OK, at least not now. I continued lathering up and rinsing off in silence. I stuck my face under the streaming water to thwart the tears and surprisingly it worked...or so it seemed.

I grabbed my towel and wrapped it securely around me and walked into the bedroom. The aroma from the soap began to dance under my nostrils and I feigned a smile at the memory of how this scent drove him wild. Remembering how many days I was late for work because he couldn't keep his hands off of me. My smile quickly disappeared when I realized I would not be late, but early because there was no one here to distract me. Feeling the desire to sob some, I grabbed my radio remote and hit play. Now why does it seem like every song on the radio is about you, when you're going through something?

First, I hear "If I can't have you, let love set you free/To fly your pretty wings around/Pretty wings, your pretty wings. I quickly change the station only to hear, "Sometimes love comes around/ And it knocks you down/Just get back up/When it knocks you down. I turn the station one more time hoping...no praying to hear a Lil John or Soulja Boy song so I can find the strength I need to put my clothes on. Then finally some salvation "Nuttin left to do but send her home to you/I'm through - can ya sing the song for me, boo?/One more chance/Biggie give me one more chance."

Now I'm grooving, putting my clothes on trying to tuck my thoughts of him safely away, at least until 5pm. I slide on my stilettos, adjust my skirt, apply my lip gloss and give myself an approving once over. "You're going to be fine," I say to myself as I search for my keys.

I place my hands on my keys and I shuffle through the room looking for my purse, the commercial commences. The DJs are chattering, but I was not paying attention. Just then I hear it. I am stopped in my tracks...paralyzed. The pain in my chest, knot in my throat, heat around my eyes. The tears fall, the sobs immediately follow, and everything goes dark. I barely manage to call in to work as the sound of Mary J tortures me:
Sleep don't come easy
Boy please believe me
Since you been gone
Everything's goin' wrong
Why'd you have to say goodbye
Look what you've done to me
I can't stop these tears from fallin' from my eyes
Ooh baby
I'm going down

And just like that I went down for the count...

The Diary of a Brokenhearted Girl

The Realization

The time was 11:37 pm EST. The date was July 28th 2009. My body tensed, my eyes burned, I lay there still and motionless. All of a sudden, a flood of emotions engulfed me. At first, I didn't know whether I was going to laugh or cry; gag or vomit; seize or collapse. I was perfectly motionless. Then a loud SNAP!!! I felt paralyzed. In a flash each and every moment of my life appeared before my eyes like a live action movie...all the laughter, every tear, every hug, every highlight, and every disappointment. It was in this moment, it became clear I was going to die.

Still involuntarily motionless, all I could manage was the solemn flow of tears I could not restrain. I saw everything I had done, and everything I had ever wanted to do. I watched my children be born, graduate, and marry. I watched as my closest friends achieved every ounce of happiness each one of them deserves. In that moment, I knew it was almost over, because my body became hotter in some areas and colder in others. But I was still motionless. Then I saw him.

His eyes pierced through my soul, and I realized I was in hell. Damned to an eternity of longing for him and never being able to have him. I tried to close my eyes to ease the pain of his piercing gaze, but to no avail. I tried to lift my arms to cover my eyes or maybe to reach for him, but like a ton of bricks I couldn't lift them.

I wanted to scream, but my voice had escaped me. However the salty tears that had been falling made their way to my tongue, but the taste was unfamiliar. I tried to spit them back, but they fell into my mouth more rapidly and the horrific taste began to nauseate me. Instantaneously, I realized it was blood, but why would blood be falling from my eyes? I couldn't fathom an answer. Immediately the pain started. It was unbearable. Every inch of my body ached, there are no words for the turmoil I found myself emerged in. The best I can describe to you is that...I felt like each one of my limbs was being ripped off of my body.

He was still staring at me, with no pity, no sympathy, but smugness. He didn't care how much pain I was in. It seemed as though he rather enjoyed watching me suffer. Yes, I was suffering. I just wanted to be taken out of my misery. Could I just die already? My eyes begged for mercy, begged for death, begged for him to just go away all to no avail.

Once I had come to terms with the pain and had began to mentally accept my fate, he moved closer to me. A sympathetic look on his face. Had I finally suffered enough for him? Was he going to give me the death I had so long desired? Now his face was only inches from mine and I could feel the coolness of his breath on my skin, and in that moment all the pain ceased. Had I finally crossed over to the other side? He ran his hand gently across my face, down to my neck, and along my torso. My heart was racing.

He instinctively laid his head on my chest and intently listened to the sound of my heart beat. He touched his own chest and realized his heartbeat and mine were synchronized. (I had always thought in death the heart ceased to beat, but seeing as how I am no expert on dying being wrong was not impossible.) He held me closer and listened to the sound of my heart and smiled. For the first time he spoke,"your heart sings my name." I smiled because I knew it was true. The first time he had held me in his arms my heart had changed rhythms. I had realized it right away, but had never seen the point in mentioning it. We both lay there in silence. He listening to the song in my heart, and I stroking the back of his head; both of us at absolute peace.

Then I heard a voice. It was one I had heard before. I looked around but I saw no one. I felt his body tense, and I tried to console him with my hands and eyes, but he pulled away from me. I lay there confused, and his body stiffened again. I began to feel twinges of pain again; nothing major more along the lines of discomfort. No big deal considering what I had already endured. The voice spoke again, but the words were undecipherable for me. He stared at me for one long moment, as if pre-apologizing for what he was about to do. I stiffened my body in defense then he placed his lips on mine rendering me totally helpless.

In a time frame too fast to be interpreted in words, he reached his hands through my body. The pain was inexplicable. I screamed one of the most blood curdling screams anyone could imagine. Then, just like that he was gone.

No longer immobile, I lay there waiting to breathe my last breath, I decide to assess the damage. I reluctantly reach inside of the gaping hole in my chest only to find that it was gone!! Yet somehow I was still alive!? Although with the pain I was in, death would have been a welcome visitor. I examined the ground and saw mangled pieces of my heart. While he had left with the majority of it; he left behind traces of what had happened here. It was in this instance I realized, that my heart was broken.

The Diary of a Brokenhearted Girl

Why Him?

Why am I sitting here thinking of him?
Why does my heart ignore my head and let him in?
Why can't I heed the warnings previously set?
Why did I fall instantaneously the moment our eyes officially met?
Why do I let him drive me crazy, when I should care less?
Why does my heart chase after him, removing my bulletproof vest?
Why does every scenario begin and end with him?
Why do I never tell him and when we talk I keep pretending?
Why do I know it would never work, but my heart protests this fact?
Why does my head and heart constantly fight about all the qualities he lacks?
Why does an empty inbox fill me with discontent?
Why does the thought of being without him seem like a fellowless firmament?
Why does his kisses linger when he's not there?
Why do I wake up reminiscing about his hands stroking my hair?
Why do all these random things remind me of him?
Why after hearing his voice my day can finally begin?
Why with every move I make, I subconsciously think of him?
Why in every fleeting moment I'm imagining being in his arms again?
Why can't anyone make me feel like you do?
Why when the contenders are way better does my heart call out for you?
Why do I feel like he's captured a part of my soul?
Why compared to him no candle any man can hold?
Why are you so distant and can never expose how you feel?
Why am I so stubborn and I keep my distance still?
Why do I want to tell him everything about me, he's always wanted to know?
Why don't I tell him is because I fear he will let me go.
Why does the thought of being without him fill me with such fear?
Why does this even matter when he's not even here?
Why when someone mentions his name, I can't help but to blush?
Why when I get his text I feel such a rush?
Why when I don't hear from him I suddenly feel lost?
Why the moment I get his text or call; I'm back to being a boss?
Why do I feel I have to be there for him when he can take care of himself?
Why do I put him before me and everybody else?
Why did we ever meet if we're destined to be apart?
Why no matter how much my head argues this, I've still surrendered to you my heart?


The Diary of a Brokenhearted Girl

Does it exist?

I'm knee deep in the "Twilight" series, and it got me wondering...does a love like Bella and Edward's really exist? Are there two people in this universe who meet and time stops, and regardless of circumstances, situation, or flaws they are so drawn to each other one cannot imagine existing without the other?

In reading this first book I'm inclined to wonder will I ever feel this way or has anyone ever felt this way about me? Loving me so absolutely that I am his life or he is mine. That I would love him above and beyond all understanding. That no level of warning or fear for my own life could keep me away from him, and he with every fiber of his being will give his very own life for me should the circumstance arise. Love that looks beyond secrets, lies, flaws, and imperfections. Knowing that any and everything I've ever done wrong in the past is now forgiven, righted and wiped clean from my slate.

The kind that makes him always wonder where I am and makes me always wanna be where he is. The kind so strong even his family embraces me fully so as to ensure his happiness for they do not want to have to look into his eyes if I am no longer in his life. The kind of love that makes every other beautiful woman pale in comparison to me, and no man holds a candle to him. Trust me, I want it to be reciprocal.

The kind of love that makes me feel as though a part of me is missing when he's gone and I only feel whole when his arms are wrapped securely around me and I can feel his breath on my neck. The kind of love where his eyes hypnotize me, his touch sets my body and soul on fire, and his kisses nearly bring me to my knees. I want it. Where no matter what I feel I can tell him without fear of judgment or reproach and he can do the same. Where his love for me is obvious to every person within 100 miles of us. The type of person who giving birth to each of his children would be my honor and gift to him while I make no concern with my health.

The kind of love where his essence and mine are unified no matter how far apart we are. Love without question, fear, or doubt. Timeless, ageless, and unconditional love. The love of fairy tales and fables; of love stories and tragedies; of real life with a hint of romanticism. The kind that my children's children's children's children will be talking about for eternity. The kind that inspires people to be in love. The love that comes with absolute certainty and commitment that I am his and he is mine. The kind I do not have to guess or wonder about, because he is confident enough to keep me in the know and share his feelings every day not because I want him to, but because he cannot contain it. I want to compose lyric after lyric about him and it flow so freely from my fingertips it seems as if it were written a thousand times before. I want a love like Bella and Edward's, but I have to wonder...does it exist?