Ache

TW: mental health discussion and self harm mention.

The saying nothing hurts like a broken heart is accurate, especially if one’s heart has been broken their entire life. There are some who are born broken and through the journey of their existence they have to figure out how to piece the world together. When humanity opens their hearts to others, that’s when they are giving themselves the power to hurt.

Verity was in agony, and the only thing that was cure was also the poison. Brooklyn knows her better than anyone else, he was connected to her. She felt as if they were the same person, one soul separated by the bodies that harbored them. She felt as if her heart was a living creature inside her, ripping itself apart. It was trying to survive, but it was drowning. 

She had thought if she confessed her feelings, she’d be the one to ruin things therefore she kept them bottled. But that bottle, just shattered and she knew the pieces of her soul were lodged in her throat, restricting her from speaking. She had built up this idea of what they were, of what they could be, and it was all a facade.

She wishes she could keep pretending, but she doesn’t know how long she can. She doesn’t know how much longer she can hang onto the life raft of their sinking ship. Suddenly, she was transported back to the beginning of the summer, before Brooklyn, when there was nothing but herself. She was her only company, her only choice. She was there again, and the thought alone almost tore her to shambles. How much of Brooklyn could she endure before the bricks of her foundation collapsed. How many times would she allow herself to be in this situation? How much would she allow herself to feel?

The tank inside her was overflowing, she was spewing at the rims and no one was listening. She was the problem. She always ended up on this road, the one labeled “alone.” This situation was nibbling on her sanity, chewing away the walls she had built. The tears knew no bounds as they escaped the cages she’d confined them in. Her oldest friend, Ache, was someone she was the most familiar with. Every time Ache knocks at her door, she allows them. She began to ignore Ache when it was Brooklyn knocking at her door instead. Knocking wasn’t the right word for Brooklyn, more so barged. He’d kicked her door down and demanded seeing. She had grown used to way he would make himself comfortable in her space. The difference between Brooklyn and Ache, is that one will always be there while the other will not be. 

—

Verity’s greatest desire is that they could rewind time and return to summer. It was a time where whatever she and Brooklyn had, was easier. When she wasn’t aware of his girlfriend, where she wasn’t aware of his deception. When they’d stay up to 5 am watching movies and playing games, when they would fall asleep on the phone together and guilt didn’t flood her. It had been just them against the world, and now that world felt a lot bigger than it had before. The only problem with wishes, is that they are selfish in nature. She ignored the pain she’d suffered that summer, when she had made the wish to return to it. She’d ignored the triumph of growth she’d gone through, for Brooklyn. 

She often felt the sting of pain she’d experienced when she discovered he had a girlfriend. She often wondered about him purposely withholding her existence from her, and what it had all meant. She’d never planned to like him, she’d never liked anyone she played the game with. Her feelings didn’t easily intertwine with others, but when they did, it was almost impossible for them to get out of that knot. She didn’t want drama or uneasy feelings if something got out, it’s why she never allowed herself to truly feel for another before. It was just so easy with Brooklyn. It was almost alarming how easy it had been to fall into the pit of no return. Their friendship had reached beyond the confines of normalcy and she had fallen prey to him. 

It was easy to ignore the odd details of their friendship, such as him keeping his girlfriend a secret, or falling asleep on the phone with her when he was already in a relationship or that one time he had asked if she was a virgin. It was easy to ignore these factors when all she wanted to do was pretend everything was normal. Forgetting the bad was a practice she excelled in when it came to escaping reality. That’s what Brooklyn was, an escape. Was that healthy? She’d stopped physically harming herself, but now she was doing it again, emotionally. 

   For as long as Verity could remember, she’d dreamt of discovering a connection to someone that defied the laws of existence. She desire that one true love that was preached about every where. She’d wanted it so badly, that she’d based a great amount of her worth on whether she was desirable. She’d assumed if she never found it, then she was the problem, that she was not worthy of even being on the earth if she couldn’t find the connects that made herself worthy. She had many reasons to hate herself, but this one had plagued her for years. She’d thought she finally found that connection, the one she’d dreamt about and now? Now she was burning.

Verity was in a field of serpents, they crawled across her, wrapping themselves around her limbs. She tried to move, but they only tightened and forced her to be a victim to their power. They suffocated her but her only focus was on Brooklyn, who was talking to someone out of view. She reached for him, trying to scream his name, but the only sound that escaped her lips was a gasp. He turned and wrapped his arm around the person beside him. When her face came into view, Verity jerked back. His girlfriend planted a kiss on his cheek and pointed at Verity, a shrill laugh echoing throughout the meadow. Brooklyn’s chuckles followed and they sauntered away in each other’s arms, leaving her alone to fight an impossible battle. She tried to scream again, to beg him to stay, to save her from this torment. When their shadows disappeared, a realization seeped into her like tree sap. The only person who was going to save her, was herself. 

—

   It’s not enough to meet the right person, they have to be met at the right time. She had believed and still believed that Brooklyn was one of her soulmates. Platonic or romantic, she couldn’t decide, but she knew her soul was connected to him. Even with his treatment towards her, she couldn’t harbor resentment because he had been one of the construction workers that pieced her heart back together. 

She would not give him all the credit, he was the ant in a colony of reasons why she’d decided she would work on herself. 

   He may have assisted in the evolution of her becoming real, but she was the foundation. He had coaxed her personality out with honey, but she chose which parts of herself she would allow to be seen. The control was now in her hands.