Some mornings you wake up from late night sleep and feel an unexplained hollow somewhere in that little muscle beating inside of you.
You pretend and dismiss it under the thought that it’s probably because of exhaustion from working too hard before the weekend or unhappily drinking too much with your friends the night before Sunday or an aching part of your body that somehow affected your heart after forcing yourself to run for two miles yesterday. You come up with every excuse possible just to give a valid reason as to why you feel that way.
There’s no way you’re going to pin-point your sentiments to any emotional explanations all because you’re a guy.
You’re not supposed to feel vulnerable about your broken strings or your loss of her in your grip, even if all you want to do is collapse on your feet, forget about your toughness, and just let yourself be a soft person. You keep pushing yourself to appear as if breaking up with her never bothers you, even if in all honesty you’re so crushed and tormented on the inside. You don’t allow yourself to verbally express your remorse and grief, even if the first thing you really want to do in the middle of the night is dial her number and tell her how sorry you are and ask her for another second chance.
You conceal your feelings, bury them deeper inside of you, and shut them down again once they arise in the surface because you’re a man. And you make yourself believe that your male ego prevails over honesty.
So when she changes her profile picture with a new guy grinning by her side, you lose all your temper and wish it is still you.
So when you back-read the messages you exchanged with her two months ago and see how beautiful she is in the photographs she sent you, you automatically drown yourself to empty cans of beer.
So when your friends ask you with concern if you’re okay, you pull off that cocky lopsided grin and quickly lie.
So when you kiss a new girl and you close your eyes, you still imagine it’s her red sugary lips you used to brush your lips against with.
So when someone tells you she loves you, you look down on your phone and reply you love her too.
It sucks to admit that maybe you’re still not over her. But what’s worse is the truth that maybe you can’t pull her back to you anymore.
Maybe if you told her how stellar she looked in that maxi dress and sunglasses she wore just for you, she wouldn’t feel insecure.
Maybe if you volunteered to carry her bag when she felt tired from a long day at work, her smile wouldn’t falter. Maybe if you cared to listen to her fears that made her so scared, she would feel secure. Maybe if you bought her a dinner that she was craving all week, she would feel special. Maybe if you complemented her to every lovely things she did to impress you, she wouldn’t get tired from loving you.
Maybe when you yelled at her when she was just trying to help you with your problems, she was hurt.
Maybe when she was on the verge of tears on the bus home after an argument with you, she was in pain. Maybe when you ignored her when she told you how sad she was with your growing distance away from her, she was broken. Maybe when she walked away, she wanted you to go after her.
But your ego ate you alive. You thought she was being overly emotional. You believed she was becoming way too soft. You assumed she’s just being a sentimental girl and that shall pass.
That’s when you’re wrong.
That’s why she gave up.
That’s what the reason for the void in your heart.
That’s where the memory of her in you lies.