The day her diary listened, because no one else could hear her.

Diary,

Life is so heavy since he left. I feel as though the mass of my heart has expanded but the muscle has stayed the exact same size. As such, it is as though my heart has fallen through me and has been weighed down to the very ground of the last moment where he said he loved me. Every step I take in any direction away from that moment takes all the courage and the strength that I can muster and only stretches my heart further. It is as though my heart is as heavy as a ton of steel, but is at the same time as thin and easy to stretch out as taffy- a taffy that does not have the ability nor the courtesy to ever break, but only to continue stretching infinitely thinner.

I feel everyday with every step I take as though I am plodding through the densest matter possible. It is as though all the atmosphere on earth has been gathered up together and is weighing down on me specifically. It is something akin, I suppose, to how it is in the movies when the rain clouds gather up and come over a single person, but this is different still because the atmosphere of it completely surrounds and nearly suffocates me. It takes all the strength I can draw out of me to stand against that weight that is doing everything it can to keep me down and to walk against that density that is doing everything it can to keep me stagnant.

-I do not know what I think of all of this. My heart and my emotions are so heavy and dense, and my thoughts at times seem to be equally so and at other times are instead so racy and all-over-the-place. I feel so much like I have never belonged somewhere as well as I have belonged anywhere as long as I have had him by my side.


...I just want my heart to turn to rubber and bounce back into me again.

I cannot cry. I wish I could. I do not mean that I am keeping myself from crying. I mean that I wish with all my heart that I could cry, but for some reason I cannot. If my heart will not become a part of me again, I wish, at least, that it would break. Somehow though, I find that even still, I remain stuck somewhere in between.

-What am I, Diary? Am I my heavy heart? Am I my racing thoughts? I am not even sure that I am any more broken now than I was before we met. ...In fact, I think I am more whole.


-And with that, a tear dropped on the page.