On breakups.

I'm supposed to be writing my short story that I need to submit in two days. I'm also supposed to write something happy since I just got into a relationship. But no, I decided to write about this since one of my good friends just broke up. If you're reading this, I dedicate this post for you.

"It's not working out." His flat tone creeps you out, but there is nothing you can do about it. "Let's break up," he adds bitterly. You try to say something, anything. You try to cry, you try to shout, you try to ask 'Why?' but nothing comes out. You just gaze at him with a blank stare.

The next thing you know, you're holding your phone as you cry. You cry and cry as we listen to you without knowing what to say to console you. And when you think you're finally done crying, you'll cry a little bit more. We try to say something like "He has a better plan for you," or  "I'm sure your prince charming is out there waiting for you. Waiting for your smile that will shake his world." But you clamp your ears shut, you refuse to listen to other people. And you keep on crying for a little bit more. You realize that breakup doesn't kill, the realization that you'll never be with him again does.

The next day, you think the worst has passed. You think you can finally pick up the pieces of your heart and start moving on. But who are you kidding? We all know this is the part that would kill you, or -- if it doesn't -- at least it would cripple you. Even the slight sight of their gifts starts to irritate you. You're thinking of throwing away whatever reminds you of them. But you're not ready to throw away everything, are you?

You get a lot of attention, yet you're getting tired of telling your story over and over again to friends and to strangers. You start faking smiles and you start faking 'I'm fine' when we ask "Are you okay?" or "How are you doing?" But we all know you are not. We all know you're not fine. In fact, we all know you're the farthest thing away from okay.

You read books. You watch movies. You play games. You cook. You do sports. You hang out with your friends. You try to distract yourself from thinking of him. You don't want to think about him, let alone talk about him with your friends.

A week passes and you start saying to yourself that you have to move on. You have to pick up the broken pieces of your heart. Everything starts to be okay. You're still irritated when you see couples being lovey-dovey when you're hanging out with your friends. You try to throw a shoe at them, but your friends manage to hold you. Other people's relationships hurt you, but you start moving on.

A month passes and your heart starts to heal. You begin to think that being single isn't all that bad. Having no one to care about but yourself. Having no one to please but yourself. You start thinking that being single is better than being in a relationship that cuts your heart a bit more by each breath you take.

A few months pass and you're whole again. The sight of other people's relationships don't bother you as much as it did a few months ago. You start smiling from your deepest heart, wondering whose world you will shake using your smile. And whose smile will shake yours.