“I want to cry. I want to fucking cry.” I say to the moon, in between sobs.
I imagine the moon saying, “so cry, I will listen.” And I am crying, I’ve been crying for the past 15 minutes, non-stop, but I still want to cry. This didn’t feel like crying. It’s just tears straining down on my cheeks, sobs that echoes to no one, a heart that breaks silently, without anyone knowing.
“I want to cry,” I say again. “I want to cry and shout and scream at the top of my lungs. I want him to hear me hurting. I want him to see me as I break into pieces, I want him to know how my soul shatters because of him, I want him to feel every fucking hurt he caused me. I want to cry. I want him to see me cry, and I want him to put his arms around me, and tell me ‘darling, it’s okay, I’m here, I won’t ever hurt you again. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.’ until I fall asleep in his arms with his soothing words echoing in my dreams.”
//excerpt from a book i’ll never write # 13