I Broke My Heart

It was the first time that I experienced being in love. It was also the first time that I cried my eyes out. It was the first time that I couldn’t bring myself to smile or jump into conversations. It was the first time.

I broke my own heart. I have never felt this way towards another person. It was only then when that person had to go away when I realized how I really felt. Well at least that’s what I keep telling myself. I knew what my mind was telling me long before that day, but I never accepted such a feeling despite the surge of emotions overwhelming me by the mere bass quality of his voice. I cannot accept that I felt so strong for another person. I denied my ability to love. I loathe myself for falling for such a guy.

Bursting is the most appropriate term to coin my status now. This hurting that should be buried with me to the grave. To love someone such as him is completely delusional and absurd. If I was him and I was to know the truth, I will feel betrayed. And I don’t want that. Aside from the painful blow that I dealt unto myself, it would be fatal to see him disgusted by me. I can stand the stare of other people who discriminate against my kind. I have been dealing with them for nineteen years now. But if he was to do that to me, then it’s better that he never knew me at all.

I have often laughed at a school girl’s fantasy. I have often entertained myself with love quarrels. But now that I felt the reality of it all; the pain, the agony, the suffering and the longing, I can neither laugh nor smile. I can only cry.

That day I wallowed in my flaws. Every fragment of my life spent with him was racing through my head. I saw things in a different light. He was never the type that I would have a crush on. Eventually it became clearer to me; the traits that I was looking for were traits that were originally his. He never failed to awe me. But I never looked past that. He was never someone that I shy away, I can look him in the eyes and converse with ease.

I can mask what I felt. What I feel is offensive, immoral and disgusting—to him. I cannot and must not love someone like him. I cannot even breathe his name to another soul. I’m threatened that what I feel will come to his knowledge. The mere thought sends shivers through my spine. A cold chill.

I do not regret my delayed perception. I can’t blame myself for not knowing what love is for I have never been in love. If I knew love earlier then I would’ve been in pain ever since.

I begrudged my gender, personality, and existence. I hated myself for being the way I am. It was one of the few times that I was unsure of myself. I was powerless. I wanted to be with him, yet it’s too farfetched that I do not dare to daydream. I’d die every time I see him.

At least I know how it feels to love. But if this is the way that love will always be for me, then it's better not to love at all. I cannot break my own heart again. Not again.