As a young girl, I always thought that finding the right guy would be an easy job for me to do because I was given the right information about how a guy should and shouldn’t treat his woman or any woman at that. But as always, I was wrong because when it was all said and done, I was the one that ended up with a broken heart. Many imagine love as an unspeakable, on-going story that makes them feel complete, special, and dreamy. Never once did they mention the aftershock that can be caused by love. However, though their impressions may be deceived after their first broken heart; most continue to look for that fairy tale, happy-ending love story, while the remainder of us, including myself, give up on love and the pain that comes along with it.
It all begin with my senior year in high school; never did I expected to get my heart broken so soon; but I guess it was a part of the lesson that I was bound to learn. My broken heart was best described as if someone was holding me down so tight that I could not move or fight back while they beat me into pieces; I just took the pain and prayed for the day I felt good again. I guess the reason why I felt that way was because I was so in love with that person. For an example, being in love with him, the way that I was, felt as if a flower was blossoming in my heart and I felt each petal opened; even in the winter I smelled the freshness of spring. It seem like my world had been crashed and shattered into little pieces and they were piercing through my heart. It hurt so bad that I wanted to scream to the top on my lungs for the world to hear. For three months straight, I lay in the bed at night and cried all of my flaming and burning tears out until there wasn’t any more to let out. My body was so numb that if I would have gotten hit by a car, I wouldn’t felt a thing afterward. I felt as though I wasn’t alive, but my heart and brain was throbbing because I was broken up so bad in the inside. Nothing made sense to me and I...
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