Holding On

A day in the life of heartbroken twenty-something.

Holding On

I can’t help but be intrigued by the scent of her skin. It doesn’t smell too powerful; it’s really quite faint. I get a whiff here and there, and that makes me lean in closer to take it all in. I inhale and hold in the hopes that the sweetness won’t fade, but it does. It always does. I open my eyes and the past leaves me once again, throwing me into the present with a violent rage. I want to go back, back to my safe place I spent so long in. She’s the only one who has ever made my heart so full, not like the empty shell it has become since her departure. I want to go back. I need her back.

My morning routine consists of snoozing for half an hour before rushing to get ready and leave for work on time. I never make it. I’m only ever a few minutes late, but that’s all it really takes. If I’m not on, I’m off. At least when it came to her. We weren’t on time. Missed by a few minutes, she was always ahead of me. I wonder what could have been if I was as fast as her.

At the office, I struggle to keep myself busy. I waste time checking my phone for messages I don’t receive. The boss always chooses to walk by in those exact moments. Time seems to match for us. Listening to music while I fill in mind-numbing spreadsheets, I get an hour or so of peace. At least until that song comes on. The one she loved for me to sing to her. She never could remember the name, but she always asked me to sing our song, and I happily obliged. I sang it for her the last night we spent together. We both knew it was ending soon, and we tried to hold on to some semblance of normalcy in order to keep it together in each other’s presence. When I left her, I cried all the way home. I wonder if she shed any tears over me.

When I get home, I’m too exhausted to make anything to eat, but my stomach will not accept that. I reluctantly order a pizza, and even that takes too much energy. I never liked this particular pizza chain, but it was her favorite, and that made me crave it. I decide to throw in a Pepsi, which we both prefer over coke. All my thoughts and actions are still influenced by her. Nothing is sacred anymore.

It seems I am suddenly re-energized right when I should be going to sleep. I curse my body for always fighting me and put on a late night show for background noise as I close my eyes. I could never fall asleep next to her either. I explained to her, “When I’m with you, I don’t want to waste our time sleeping.” This seemed to make her happy, but it didn’t stop her from falling asleep within minutes. I didn’t mind though. I liked watching her sleep. I often took pictures of her asleep to send to her the next day with a comment on how adorable she is. Maybe in retrospect that was a contributing factor to our separation.

Sleep eventually washes over me, and another day is gone. It’s been eight months, and I still count the days to when I no longer see her in everything I do. How long until I can move on and go even a day without her memory? I wonder if she still thinks about me, but I couldn’t bear to know the answer, as I’m sure it’s a resounding no. The next day I will wake up and do it all over again. I wish I could say it won’t be long until I feel better, but I don’t see that coming anytime soon. In a weird way, it’s a comfort to always feel her presence, but it’s unhealthy and I know that. I feel her in my arms again, and I hold on tight.

Author's Note

An accurate depiction of a current heartbreak.