She laid there in her bed with the duvet tightly wrapped around her thin body, allowing her head to sink down in the pillows she looked up in the white painted ceiling and let out a loud sigh.  Where had it all gone wrong? When had he stopped caring?  Maybe it was her own fault for falling, falling into the deep cold ocean called love, falling for the boy she once tought was perfect ( she still does, but she just doesn’t deserve someone like him, and he deserves someone better than her), and the one to save her from herself.  
   But she knew, from the beginning, that one of them would fall harder in the end, and somewhere, deep inside she knew she was the one to get hurt (wasn’t it always that way?) People told her she was bright, she had the looks and she was lucky, with everything except love.  She chuckled; she wasn’t anything the people said she was. She was a monster, a monster built by other people.  The monster was inside her head, eating her from the inside out, and she had hoped, that he was the one to save her from the monster called herself, but just when the monster had gone away and the pieces of her heart was starting to get back to one piece, he dropped her and left her alone, alone to take care of the mess he, and so many others had left.  She stood on her bare knees at the bathroom floor, with tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat and as the tears began to fall she started to pick the pieces up again, not having a clue of how to put them back together ( maybe glue would work? Or maybe sewing it? A band aid?). The pieces of her heart stuck her fingers like the razors stuck her thighs or the glass her wrist, and that night, she came to the conclusion; she didn’t need, or want her heart anymore, so she threw it away.

But it was times like this, in the bed, at night with the duvet tightly wrapped around her thin body, slowly wasting away, she missed her heart, and decided to take it back, and every time she would try to put her heart back into one piece but in the end she just cried and cried, because it all hurt, because she wanted the pain to go away and because she wanted his warm arms around her body and his face burried in her neck again. She wanted to feel his warm breath against her neck, she wanted to wake up by his side in the morning, she wanted to hug him again, to feel his body close to hers again, and it hurt to think it wouldn’t happen again. So she cried, she cried because of the unsaid words, she cried because there was no goodbye, there was no goodbye hug or I'll see you later, just a silent ending to their ‘relationship’. No more text messages, no more facebook conversations (where he somewhere along the way deleted her) no more talking at all.  It was like she had never really mattered to him,  she was just there to heal his broken heart from his past relationships, and when his heart was fixed he left, without a world; leaving her with the broken heart. 

And here she was, broken hearted in the bed, with a duvet tightly wrapped around her body, trying to bring the warmth back to her body (it never worked) with tears making her already ugly face even uglier, and with the monster back in her body and her heart in a million pieces.

© Lovisa Andersson / Sixthgun.blogg.se