Fix me

My friend shattered my heart while trying to fix me.

For the past week I've been living in slow motion: taking steps just a little too slow, taking breaths just a little too short, my eyes open just a little too small, my heart beating just a little too slow. And it's happened before. And I hoped that it would never happen again but it has...this time with a vengeance.

I believed things would fix themselves. I hoped that things would sort themselves out. I trusted that the words were true, that the feelings remained, that the emotion would never fully be gone. Despite my faults, I kept going. Regardless of the way the cookie crumbled I remained there. I was hopeful.

But things changed. They changed and I was so blinded by hope that I didn't notice. And my friend told me. And I fell apart.

At first I hated my friend. I spent days laying on my floor staring at my ceiling. The hours slowly passed while my vision was clouded and I miraculously survived the salty taste of loss. Those tears that streamed down my face, the puffy red eyes that gave away my loss.

What kind of friend would make you hurt like this?
What kind of friend would shatter your heart?

For days I cried because I was sad. Because I wasn't someone who could be trusted. Because I broke HIS heart. Then I was angry. Because for years I trusted him. Because he repeatedly broke my heart....because through all this, I never walked away.

What kind of friend would someone be if they knew this and didn't tell you?
What kind of friend would look at you and lie?

These days I am sorry over what has happened but I am grateful I have a friend who loved me enough to make me cry-even at the risk of losing my friendship. Someone who has called me everyday to ask me how I am pulling through. Someone who forgave me for walking away from him when I didn't want to hear him. Because truths hurt and it's harder to ignore them when they are factually conveyed.

My heart is broken but I trust it'll heal. Because if I was blissfully ignorant a week ago that's no longer the case. And I may cry sometimes as I still do; however, that love I lost, his love, is something I will carry with me when I no longer think of it- when I no longer need it.

He is a lucky man. He really is. He has everything and more. And even if I grow to hate him, and even if I eventually wish him the absolute worse, he will still be lucky because even if it ends, there was someone in the world who loved him more than he will ever possibly know. And even if he never finds this again, if this is something he had and lost, he had someone who loved him with everything she had and more...so over all the material things he has, he really has had EVERYTHING.