my heartbreak feels unprecedented, but somehow stands in your shadow.

I usually start writing when I’m sad, which isn’t always the best, though it is when I am most compelled to write. When I am feeling emotional. I guess my mind becomes a wonderland of everything that has been and what could be.

Going into my 20s, I have started to realise just how much of a sensitive person I am. I am rarely voicing myself with strength, but instead trying to understand and, well, listen to those around me. I always believed that I was content with who I was and what I believed in, but I’m starting to not know what that means anymore.

It is as if I’ve grown to wonder some more, grown to wonder why I present myself in the way I do.

There were two sides of my sensitivity. I had often just acted as if I didn’t care and would numb any feelings that had transcended through me. Maybe because it had become too much, and maybe I had just become tired of feeling too much, so much.

Then there is what I am seemingly going through right now. I’m feeling everything all the time, and I notice things that I should not.

That is when the heartbreak comes in—where, in moments I feel as though I can express myself and be the upmost vulnerable, I am met with a sudden cold shoulder. I have not always been the best with expressing how I truly feel, but I do think I try sometimes.

I always have a feeling of admiration when someone decides to open up to me. I even catch myself thanking them for doing so.

“Thank you for opening up to me.”

It is something so hard for me to do, so I am truly enamoured as I know how difficult it can be. I know that speaking from the depths of your heart to someone you barely know, and even someone you know well, is one of the toughest things. Though tough, it sure is respectable in my books.

I guess I am also thanking them in a way that they know I appreciate them for telling me.

“But in the end, stories are about one person saying to another: This is the way it feels to me. Can you understand what I’m saying? Does it also feel this way to you?”

Have you ever thought about how much your actions truly affect others? This question takes me back to school, as a teacher had regularly been somewhere shouting about how your actions have consequences.

I guess it is as simple as that.

I sit miles away, maybe even oceans away from you, and you aren’t aware that you have broken my heart. You do not know that I had spent three months lugging around this sadness, well, because I did not tell you—even when you asked.

I question the sincerity of the questions you ask me.

I think my intuition had saved me when you had first grilled me on how I felt about you. I had been reluctant to tell you, and I always have been, since deep down you did not deserve to know, and I truly did not believe you felt the same way.

I was right.

I know nothing about you, as you know nothing about me.

I have this distasteful feeling in my mouth, nor am I able to take a joke, so apologies if I am unable to laugh at myself for a few days. I believe one needs to be secure in oneself to do so, and at this very moment, I am not.

Can it be about me for a second? Because when it is about me, it somehow shifts to you. You have broken my heart, and you are not even aware that you have, and I am starting to believe that it might be my fault.

My heartbreak feels unprecedented, but somehow stands in your shadow.