It snowed that night. It was late April and it snowed. Not flakes of snow, big globs of snow dropped from the sky, killing the blossoms and promise of spring. The freezing white covered the earth in cleansing white. That storm robbed my life of color and brightness of future. No, not the storm of snow, the storm raging in my head and heart. It continues to amaze me how heartache affects my stomach. Anything I eat turns to stone, making me feel overly full and sick from the depths of my guts to the top of my throat. I almost want to throw up, as if it will purge all of this ugliness inside me. That's it. My body rejects feeling this way. It cannot process this nocuous combination of hate, bitterness, confusion, betrayal, and hurt. Perhaps that is why the act is surreal to me still in the morning. The snow is melting, but I still feel solid inside. I feel so many things, yet I feel nothing. Everything has stopped inside me. It is a surprise I still breathe and can feel my heart beat.
The act itself was not the largest part of the betrayal. Oh do not mistake my meaning, that still pricks—a sticker in my skin every time that heart of mine beats. If only it would stop! Then this...this, whatever this is would stop. No, that is not the part that causes the deep ache in my heart and cessation of my other bodily functions. Whoever decided omission was a sin was all too right. The fact that she did not tell me, that is the part that kills what bit of humanness I have in me. I want to put it from my head, but it is a dull needle caught in the scratch on vinyl, an incessant loop of the same things I've already thought, and hearing her voice tell me that they confessed their affection for one another, that he had just left her after a weekend together, that he asked her to be his girlfriend...that she said yes to it all. The day after he broke up with me my best friend said yes to him.
It snowed that night. It was late April and it snowed. Not flakes of snow, big globs of snow dropped from the sky, killing the blossoms and promise of spring. The freezing white covered the earth in cleansing white. That storm robbed my life of color and brightness of future.
