J'ai quand même atteint l'stade de désespoir a m'passer tous les wikihow sur comment gérer une rupture. J'te jure frère, c'est bon j'ai chopé tous les conseils des psychologues des internets, et puis pourtant c'est fou j'vais pas mieux. A croire qu'y'a pas d'recette magique contre les maux de coeurs. Alors tu t'occupes. Crois moi s'occuper quand on fait les études que j'fais c'est pas dur, mais le soir, avant de dormir quand j'suis seule dans mon lit, j'recommence à penser. Ma conscience est devenue mon pire ennemi. Ma sensibilité cause maintenant mes plus grandes détresses, et ceux que j'aime s'en prennent plein la gueule parce que mon coeur à mal et qu'il s'empêcher de sentir. C'est quand même putain d'incroyable qu'en un mois et demi mon os ce soit reformé et qu'h'ai regagné la fonctionnalité de mon membre immobilisé mais que mon petit coeur lui se soit pas remis de la blessure que je lui ai moi même infliger. Comment peut on quitter celui qu'on aime? J'ai pas encore l'impression de l'avoir fait, j'remet en questions mes décisions 400 fois par jour et toutes les certitudes qui m'ont bercées pendant toute ma vie se sont envolées en poussière. J'ai jamais eu aussi mal. Mais j'me dit que si j'm'en sors, j'men sortirais toujours.
It's crazy how you live with the constant presence of someone for months and then in the blink of an eye they completely disappear from your life. It hurts so much to know that he loved me, and that I loved him, and that to be fair I still do. I know it wasn't right, but it doesn't mean it wasn't real. It doesn't mean that ending it erased everything i felt for him. It would so much easier if he was a jackass. Maybe it would be easier if he had cheated on me, or if our relationship was a loveless one. But the thing is, it wasn't. He was the kindest, most caring, cheering, funny, loving person I had ever met. He still is. He had become my anchor. The one I turned to when life became to hard to bear by myself. I wasn't fair to him. He deserves way better, someone who doesn't throw on him their burdens. Someone to be happy with, not someone he constantly had to pick up the pieces of. In no way did he deserve someone like me in his life. I hope i didn't hurt him as much as i hurt myself, i hope he gets through everything better than i do. I just want to see him. Apologies about everything i put him through. Apologies because if he hadn't met me maybe he wouldn't have suffered, apologies because i stole 9 months from him, because i took his first time, because i should have run away long ago. He had the perfect family too, the nicest one. They're a great part of the reason why i haven't given on my life before it even started. I feel like i took from them without ever giving, that i'm a thief in the way that i never gave their son what he truly deserved, to be cared for as much as he cared for me and everyone around him. It's been a month and in no way have i grieved. I still can't imagine ever finding someone that would be a quarter of the person he was. I had the perfect one for me and i let him go. He was my one true, and can't picture having that again with anyone else. I know they say, young love, first heartbreak. But the thing before him, i always chose not to get involved. And with him, I also chose to get involved. I shared my plans with, and he did with me. He made me grow in so many ways, he became an integrant part of who i became. He became one, he chose to take my guidance into account, as i chose to rely on him emotionally. How can you ever forget someone who helped you build yourself, how can you forget the one who got you through the hardest part of your life. I miss everything about him. His smile, his touch, his advice, the contorting place his house had became to me. Now everything that is even remotely related to him has and effect on me. I think about him when i think of my high school, i think about him when i think about my holidays, i think about him when i see his brother, cousin, or father in town, i think about him when we eat his favorite dish, or when someone make a joke resembling one he used to make, or when someone talks about love, or when i see a couple kissing, a couple sitting at a coffee table, a couple walking down a street in front of me. I haven't gotten back to the anticaire's quarter since we broke up. I couldn't bear walking past the café we used to go to, let alone sit in it. I feel so numb, so broken inside, nothing seems to have any importance anymore. The only thing i have if my feeling of loss. Even though i'm surrounded by a loving family and reliable friends, the only thing i feel is the sting of emptiness. It's been a month. And of course I manage to smile and laugh throughout the day, but i still cry myself to sleep every night. It's been a month and although now i can manage to sleep alone, i still wake up at 5AM, needing the presence of the one person that won't be there anymore by myself to make me fall asleep in his arms.
It's weird to think that our entire story will have started and ended in 2016. He celebrated his 17th birthday with me, I celebrated my 17th birthday with him, and he offered me the funniest gift in the world, but he will never be the man I kiss on new year's eve. I can't get myself to reflect on my year because 2016 will forever be marked as His Year. My bestfriend knows even pronouncing his name hurts me too much, my girl-bestfriend, her, was hurt as much as me by my breaking up with him, which she felt as the most unfair situation. I was a zombie for 2 weeks, sleeping at a friend's house because i couldn't keep occupying my parents' bed.
I had broken my arm too but I soon learned bone ache is more bearable than heart ache.
Art, music, love, life, and campfire nights made me who I am.
Pauline, tout juste 17 ans, CPGE⎪J'ai l'impression que c'est qui me définit. Ou plutôt ce qui, selon la société, me définit. T'as quel age, c'est quoi ton niveau d'études et, t'es mariée ? Les trois variables qui nous dicte ce que nous sommes et qui ne devraient pas. Même si au final je ne sais même pas qui je suis. Je sais ce que j'aime, je sais ce que je fait mais je ne sais pas qui je suis. Je sais ce qui fait crier mon coeur, de colère, de honte, d'amour, de désir, de tristesse. Je ne sais pas ou je serais dan un an, je ne sais pas ce que je ferais dans un jour. Je sais que j'aime, l'amour, l'anglais, les garçons intelligents et les gens passionnés, les musiciens les artistes, Amsterdam, la poésie, donner mon temps pour ce qui me fait vibrer, donner mon temps pour ce qui me donne l'impression de rendre le monde meilleur. Je suis positiviste mais pas idéaliste, et pas utopiste non plus. J'aime la chaleur, d'un pull, d'un feu, d'un corps. Et j'écris. Deux bribes ou peut être trois, des fois des pages par jour des fois pas un mot en des mois.
We're the children of terror my friends, and our duty is to fight it to the end of us.