And it’s over, and I’m going under. But I’m not giving up; I’m just giving in.
:: Florence and the Machine ::
Her heart ached. It twisted. It beat too fast, felt too heavy.
She couldn’t find the right words to describe it, the constant ache, the anxiety. And she couldn’t figure out how to make it go away. It made her face burn and her nose tingle, and tears welled in her eyes, threatened to fall. Sometimes she didn’t even know why. She just felt this sense of loss, this feeling of being unloved or unwanted. Alone.
He didn’t think of her. He had proven time and again that he didn’t often think of her, but this time it was worse. He was away, she was left behind, and he wasn’t thinking of her.
The thought of days like this, weeks like this, seemed unbearable. What could she do to make it stop? To make it end? She just wanted the feelings to be over, to be over and done with. She didn’t want to feel sad. She was tired of feeling sad. But she didn’t know how to stop. And she couldn’t fight it forever.
She couldn’t tell you why she even cared. She just couldn’t stop.