Love Relationships heartbreak indian woman moving on

People Said That Moving On Was Easy, Then Why Was It Not For Me?

( words)
*For representational purpose only.

11:11 p.m. I saw the time and smirked, thinking of the naive people like me who believed in '11:11' wishes. Piles of books sat in front me, untouched since a long time. I simply gazed at them without successfully reading anything. Series of thoughts stood at the door of my mind.

After 4-5 useless attempts to concentrate, I shut my books as well as that door. I was well aware of the reason why I couldn't concentrate, as it was the same reason for every disturbance in my smooth life. I took my phone and opened WhatsApp to distract myself.

You know, what's really weird about social media is that when you actually need someone to talk to, there is no one.

After a few minutes of scrolling, I found myself opening the drive that I hadn’t touched in days. After seeing two or three pictures, I realized I'd made a huge mistake. It would surely push me down to the trench of pain, which I, somewhat feel like I had made progress getting out of or worse, it would provoke me to take some stupid steps.

I guess it was too late to rectify my mistake, yet I thought it would be better if I fell asleep. But I couldn't. Instead, I had a conversation with my ceiling or you can say replayed the last conversation I had with someone. I turned to my side just to break my chain of memories.

I wondered how people said that moving on was easy and if so, why was it not for me?

Maybe I was a classic over thinker; I was a classic over lover too. I put on my earphones and played the first song I found online, turning up the volume to its maximum level. It was not my kind of music but I couldn't risk listening to slow, soft songs, as I knew where they would drag me.

However, I couldn't tolerate the loud music for more than five minutes. By then it was 12.30 a.m. and my situation was getting worse. I was in the midst of a hurricane of emotions. And then the worst part began, I started questioning myself, "Why me? Am I really this bad to deserve this, what if...?" My insecurities were hitting me like bullets of questions.

When you don't know whom to hate, you start hating yourself.

My conscience blamed me for everything, and I was in no condition to deny it or present my side of the story. Unlocking my phone, I dialled my best friend's number. But before it could ring, I disconnected the call. I didn't want to discuss it with anyone now, not anymore, I didn't want her to try and convince me about anything, which she had been doing for a really long time.

I remembered my decision to come out of it on my own.

My brain took advantage of this situation and went down memory lane to recall everything, some random conversations, his lame jokes, our songs and hollow promises. From the day we met to the day he left, every moment was in front of my eyes; it felt like someone was compelling me to see a horror movie, which ends with my death.

I tried hard to stop it but I couldn't. It seems unrealistic to believe, but when you go through an emotional breakdown, your body starts reacting to it.

I couldn't catch my breath, I kept digging my face deeper and deeper into my pillow to run away from my thoughts.

I was choking and that made me panic. I reached for the bottle near me and took a few sips of water, but I felt like I couldn't swallow at all because of the heaviness in my chest and throat. I had no idea why I was feeling these physical abnormalities like I was physically fighting with someone.

Some poisonous gas seemed to be running through my veins, filling my chest and my brain. I tried to calm myself down with some pep talk but nothing worked and my restlessness kept getting worse.

I wanted to scream, scream out loud, scream at everyone for putting me in that place, at myself for letting them do so.

Honestly speaking, I am a crybaby; anything and everything makes me emotional, but after the day he finally left, I had not shed a single tear. Surprisingly, now I wanted to cry but was unable to or maybe I was crying without tears.

I kept mumbling, "It's just one night, you know you are stronger than this". I switched off my phone, kept it in under my pillow to avoid calling anyone and went to the balcony. Normally, if you ask me even to step down from my bed in the dark, I'll deny it at any cost. But that day I went to the balcony at around 1:30 a.m.

Maybe because the demons inside my head were more dangerous than the real ones.

I sat on the floor. It was a chilly night; I could feel the intensity of the cold all the way to my soul. I had tried everything earlier but failed, so I allowed myself to get buried in my own thoughts. Slowly, the tranquillity of the night calmed me down. I was not thinking; just sitting there, blank, letting the darkness of the night suppress the darkness of my thoughts. I felt lighter.

Sometimes, when you feel you are drowning, just flow along, keep your head above the water, and allow the current to take you to the other side.

I sat there for over two hours, I guess, and finally, I went back to my bed and fell asleep.

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