We are breaking, but I didn’t notice until now. I knew this could happen, but whenever I thought of it, I always pictured it a lot more gentle.The reality is, as always, way more cruel. Reality is a dark monster that messes with our minds. Reality is the one that pushes two people apart when all they want is to hold on to each other. Reality makes you wish you would’ve been stabbed a hundred times.
Trying to hold on to what we once had, we realized, is useless. We walked in two different ways that don’t cross anymore. I was the one who changed paths, and I don’t regret it for a second, even if that is what changed us. My path is rockier and steeper and will give me more that a few migraines, but I chose it. She chose an easier way, but I can’t judge since I sure as hell would have followed her if I could, but my soul didn’t let me.
We are breaking, which means we are not over yet. She is trying to fix it, but I know that you can’t fix a demolished building with scotch tape. We need cement and brick, but all stores are sold out.
She adds tears to the tape, but I know it won’t work because I am the only one who sees the truth: The building cannot be saved. She sees just an old inhabited building, but I see the wreckage. I see the truth, but she is blindfolded.
We are breaking, slowly but surely, and I can only hope that the light doesn’t hurt her eyes when she is forced out of that blindfold.
We are breaking.
We are broken.