It could be worse

When I think back to the time after the breakup, I get scared, really scared. I never ever want to have to go through that again. The panic, the endless hatred of people that were hurting her, the urge to do something but the inability to actually do anything, having to watch while my world was falling to pieces, this constant sensation like I was being choked, crying and blasting my ears with Linkin Park, begging again and again that the world would finally let me die.

At every moment back then I was scared of the next hour, the next day, because I knew things could and would turn bad again within minutes. I couldn’t go two days in a row without something happening, and it pushed me into this state of wariness constantly looking out for the next downhill ride. Another message from her, noticing that something had happened, or even a trigger by some everyday activity of mine, because I literally associated everything in my life with her.

I am so glad I have put that time behind me. Nevertheless, when I just recalled what it felt like, it almost pushed me back into that mindset of wariness, that any minute I might have to deal with another worst case scenario or a several hour long panic attack. I know that it’s over, but damn, just thinking about it makes me shiver.

And then there’s the sadness that I loved and dedicated myself to someone that would abandon me at that very time, when I was at the lowest point in my life so far. This world is an evil place.

I am not feeling too great right now (actually I am feeling the opposite of great), but knowing what it’s like, I am glad I’m not that bad anymore. Is that something positive I can take off of this story? I don’t know. Maybe.