My First Post

My thoughts on a recent breakup:

No one ever tells you how it's exactly the same way you imagine an earthquake to be. It starts with just a few seemingly mild rumbles that make you uneasy, and then suddenly, as if out of nowhere, everything starts violently shaking and rupturing, crumbling down. The world around you quickly falls apart, exposing a fragility that you thought impossible with all these things now shown to be taken for granted. With it all, your newly acquired foundations of comfort and care go as well. You're left, alone, shaking in disbelief, quietly wishing it all was just a bad dream. But you don't wake. You don't move. You keep trying to talk louder than your inner voice, the one that's screaming RUN RUN RUN in deafening waves, so you don't notice there's nothing but silence around you. But it's there. The quiet. The lack of anything. The way this fog of non-noise starts filling your lungs with its icy cold panic and you start to drown. You're still not waking. You're still not running. You're still trying to scream over the voice in your head but no sound comes out. You're drowning. Drowning in silence and gasping for an air you never knew you needed.

Finally, you manage to calm the inner screaming, just enough to hear the pounding of blood vessels as your heart rages the war drums. Ba Boom. Ba Boom. Ba Boom. It's a constant reminder you're still alive. That you physically survived what obliterated the parts of you no one ever sees. That you lost something huge just a moment ago and you still are having trouble grasping what it was to begin with and how did you ever manage to trick yourself into thinking it never existed before now.

But life goes on. And minutes turn into hours and the hours days. And like an earthquake, you'll have distracted yourself and taken your mind to the places where none of this ever happened but the ground will rumble again, the after tremors, and you freeze up again. You panic again. You become breathless again. The tremor stops, but you don't. You keep shaking. You keep drowning. You keep hearing nothing but the deafening noise of your mind screaming RUN atop a war drum beat of your pulsing blood hammering away at your body.

But then life goes on some more and you find yourself here. Writing about it. Wanting it to be different. Wanting to know how to get out of it. How to fix it. But you have no answers. Just words.

Words are what triggered the quake in the first place. Words are what fell and words are what destroyed. All you have, is words.

And life goes on.