When someone leaves you, you walk around without direction like a lobotomy patient. Except it's not your brain that's been excised; it's your heart. There is a gaping void in your chest where that mass of sensitive muscle used to sit. Instead of gentle thumps there are gripping aches. Painful memories blast you with every beat of your phantom heart that once used to rest right there, nestled in the warmth of your bosom, knowingly beating with excitement, with lust, with love. But the familiar flutters now feel strange. They make your lungs pump awkwardly, your body weaken.

Like a brainless zombie, you have no need to hear the blaring noise of the television, to breathe the crisp outside air, or to nourish yourself with real food. You want to fill the space of what's been taken from you. Zombies want a brain. The heartbroken only want love.

Every day that passes seems like an endless, thankless task. They are a useless routine of shifting your weight from foot to foot, walking aimlessly, eyes not focussed on anything in particular. Your limbs move in discordant harmony because you no longer feel a rhythm.

You start to hate. You hate so much that suddenly hate seems like an adequate replacement for love -- a convenient one, anyway. So you fill the emptiness with it. You jam-pack it until it crushes your insides. It's all you have left to hold on to. Because he no longer wants to hold on to you.

But still you wait. You wait for that moment when he will return to you, with your beating heart in hand.

for those who thought i was dead: adjacent.ca is alive. my self-esteem, on the other hand... yep, pretty much dead.

why am i still here?

here = livejournal. but i suppose you could read that in an existentialist sense, as well.

it's my birthday and i can whine if i want to.

livejournal.com hosts a plethora of plagiarizing, copycat wannabes. and, yes, i'm talking about you.