Chapter one

  I toss uncontrollably beneath my sleek silver silk sheets as a wave tumultuously twists and turns in the seemingly wreathing pain of a storm passing. This situation or more like happening has become a nightly ritual to me. I cannot do anything but attempt to control the torment inside that is wreaking havoc on my sleeping patterns and life in general. Every night I go to sleep, I just expect to have a horrible experience that is nothing short of exhausting and therefore is the antithesis of what I would assume my sleep would be doing for me. I know why I sleep this way, and I wonder if it will ever get easier or if I will ever really be the same. I would like to hope so, yet I know that the defect that resides within has no intention of ever ceasing its incessant agony and cruelty. Another question that always floods my mind is do I really want it to end? Will there be anything left to feel or will I be numb and hollow? I wish that I could know what was to come and be assured it would be better than what I am handling now. My broken heart never stops harassing my thoughts or my actions. I have become even more compulsive and sensitive to every aspect and facet of my life. I cannot go more than five minutes before he seeps back into my mind like a crazed disease doing its best to keep its host in as much discomfort and pain as possible. I want nothing more than to erase him and what he has done to me, damaged me. Then again, I cannot lie that I want to still feel a connection to the one person I loved most and was willing to risk anything for; I wonder if I could be okay without remembering the times he was sweet and affectionate and made me feel like I was where I was supposed to be. After all of this brain babble, I finally wear myself out enough to squeeze out a few weak hours of rest thus the nightly routine/early morning has ended for now.

        I wake up as I do day in and day out to yet another day filled with seconds of contemplating what I am doing with life and if it is really even worth it overall. My situation is not aided by the boring and idle atmosphere of a long drawn out college holiday break; I really would much rather be cranking out calculus problems and working on tedious chem. lab reports not to mention sweating it out at the glorious health and recreation center that is sitting empty at my beloved private university I call home for about nine months out of the year. I just cannot make it through without all the feelings and bitter rejection that still feels like it came to be yesterday. I blame myself for being unlovable because no real reason for our split really was established besides his feelings that we had “grown apart” a.k.a. I want to have no responsibility or put forth any effort towards a relationship because I have seen everything you have to offer, and I am done using you. I feel as lonely as a junkie’s needle that has finally been deemed useless and thrown away. I feel so fucked up that I have gone to a dark place that no one wants to be stuck in because it is just that, you are stuck there and it is definitely not by choice. My head feels like it will topple over from the heaviness of the subject matter swimming within its premise. I am utterly overwhelmed, but nonetheless I have to put my content face on and pretend that I am perfectly fine, which I do so well and always have thankfully yet maybe harmfully. Now I deal with what decisions I need to make and confirm for my upcoming spring semester and where precisely I plan to work to pay for my college running. I have deferred some of my mourning time to planning and considering what I will do as my job this summer. On one hand, I have a good shot at working at the consistent and monotonous department store, but I would be so bored and feel so mundane. Although the non-excitement factor, that job would allow me to be able to get crazy and have some good times on the weekends with all my locals and best friends from high school who will also be back from college. The other option is so contrasting and scary that I get slightly amped and feel refreshed with an inkling of terror on the side. 

        I have the option to go out to the great wilderness of Montana and work at a peace park of international flourish. I would live in a quaint hotel and get to first hand experience the wildlife and the completely different world than the one I have always known. Sure, I would be working as a hotel worker for about five hours a day but after that I would be free to explore and get a taste for something so contrasting that I would feel alive again or at least I hope so. Best of all, I would be even farther away from him and all that his presence poisons and suffocates me with; I could possibly finally be able to let go and escape the melancholy torrential hurt of here.