The Night after

The night after a break up.


It is unusually cold, physically, even the sheets seem cold after hours of laying in them. Quiet. Still. Thoughtless yet thinking too much about nothing specific. i imagine i’m fingering the files in the cabinet of my brain, touching here and there.. perhaps seeking something that will gain my interest.a distraction? maybe.

 I have  learnt that tossing and turning leads to more confusion so I lie still. Listening to the sounds of the night while hugging myself. the hum of our laptops, the fridge making me smile, ticking on and off sounding as though it’s sneezing. music from the other rooms and my own breathing.  It’s not that I’m hurting. It’s just a dull thud, quiet but in this silence a bit to loud for someone seeking the temporary amnesia sleep brings.

My inner Juliet dies yet another quiet death. not as tragic as The Juliet’s but it is always a feeling worth acknowledging,  There is nothing nice about it. Especially when you are the reason. When you say goodbye, when you strangle her with your own hands. sounds a bit like ..suicide? i’ll go with passion killing. it’s a bit more suitable.

you always.. well maybe not you.. but I sit and wonder if he is okay? Will he make it through the night. I know he is stronger than that but it’s a natural thing to worry about.. after heartbreak.


The day after a breakup.

I don’t remember what I dreamt, it’s a quiet morning, and the sun seems a bit darker as it is rising. i drank lemon tea instead of coffee, i love coffee.  Things look a bit different. My heart feels lighter but there is still a dull thud. at least it is not so loud as the world i am surrounded by awakes from its slumber  My roommate keeps asking me if I’m ok. She says I look ugly when I’m sad, she says I have ‘that face’, i want to  laugh, i am in my head but I’m too tired to do so physically so I smile, and tell her I’m fine. Just tired.

I have a test today, Russian language, it’s also my Russian teachers birthday. She looked great in her Blue short dress… she is one of the few white women I have met who have an African body. All thick and curvy in the right places. She has a lovely smile too, it’s contagious, I catch myself smiling one too many times. The test is.. hard. Well. I didn’t study and I’m not in the mood.

I walk alone to hostel. I’m not in the mood for small talk. The sun is bright. A big hole in the sky surrounded by darkness. the trees are greener than yesterday. i love the cool air. i’m drinking it in wishing for a shot or two. Im listening to some classical music I downloaded, it’s soothing. And saddening. I feel like I should be filled with guilt, but instead I’m breathing a bit better. Mostly, I’m worried about him. Is he ok?

we havent spoken all day. i guess we aren’t going to any time soon. it’s expected… right?


Getting into my room, I throw my bag on the bed, walk to the window and open it, walk back towards my bed, sit on the edge remove my shoes and lie on my bed. Headsets still on. Hope I drift into sleep but I don’t. the bed is one of the hardest places for me to find sleep . I could be asleep while walking, but on the bed, even when I can feel I’m tired, I just cant.

i start thinking. i tell myself that i’m ok. the more i say it the more i realize i need chocolate. i  remind myself that i need to get that g string back on my guitar, i’m frustrated. i need release! i start writing, i feel so much better now. 

but the sheets are still cold-er. i’m kinda avoiding facebook, too many love bugs in the air. i’m trying not have that face so i bury myself in homework. i’m feeling ok. i guess i was waiting for guilt to sink in , it hasnt and i dont think it will. i got over this period way before i began it. it’s kinda weird, and it’s a first.

It’s natural to feel some relief. I’ve grown into disliking lying, especially when it involves emotions.. so I guess this is one of those I love you but I don’t like you anymore type situations. ive been holding on by the strand of an angels hair. perfection isn’t often earthly bound so i try not to find it in places where i know disappointment lies. even if we wouldn’t want it, it would sure come knocking on our door.

i am far from being perfect, i lost .. my passion i guess. didn’t have enough words to kiss your eye lids good morning. enough faith to hold your hand and lead you somewhere, anywhere away from the breaking point. i kinda lead us to it. we cant fly with one wing. you and i were a pair together. i know, you will grow another wing and fly higher than i could have ever helped you fly.

I don’t even know why I’m writing about him. He is gone now.. or rather I have left now. I’m only hoping I will be able to not worry about him. I know in time I wont do so anymore… my roommate is asking about that face again.

I wish I didn’t get lost in thought so often. I can feel tears somewhere inside. I think it’s the Juliet in me crying. I don’t know why she is  still around.




18 responses to “The Night after

    • it’s a natural feeling i guess,i thought i was to completely and suddenly stop feeling them but we’ll see as time goes on..
      thank you for reading and reblogging

  1. had to reblog. So impressed by how well you processed the breakup and are doing it so well. Of course, I suspect youve done this a time or two. I reached 41 before my first heartbreak. Not bc i didnt date. I dated waaaay too many ladies and was married and divorced with two kids before 25. Just never let anyone get close enough to me to do any damage until 41. I applaud your transparency and honesty. Well written and great experiential advice to pass on to my readers. Keep healing.

    • thank you… wow, i’m too much of an emotional being to not let anyone get close enough. maybe i should try it , hehehe.. thank you for reading 🙂

  2. OMG! Its so vivid. Your choice of words, the complexity of your emotions expressed, I can say that I almost felt just the same way after my first and my very recent last. The difference is that I didn’t walk away but I ask myself every other day how she feels and if she ever thinks of me or even feels half the way I feel. She walked away when she died, leaving me with one wing and a blog to let out some steam in ways other than expressing emotions.

    I wish I could hold you (no perverted thoughts) and tell you that it will be alright but it might take a few days or perhaps weeks to let go. I still haven’t stopped thinking though cos my heart is as heavy as it is light.

    On the post, well written. *double thumbs up

    • thank you so much!
      i guess a hug would do, and writing is an awesome way for some of us to let go.
      you’ll grow your other wing and flllyyyyyyyy 🙂

  3. Reblogged this on The Introvert and commented:
    I guess it goes without saying that we are hurt more often than not when we’re too close and every time we feel like we just want to walk away from the person that once gave us so much joy but feel too “in-love” to take a very little stride. In order to avoid heartbreaks, we might end up withdrawing more that we need to. Loving might be a mistake but I really think its one worth making. In the end, I think its one of those memories we would look back at and smile knowing that we’ve come a long way in loving and learning and paving ways for better things to come, I hope.Thanks for this AWESOME post, I had to reblog

    • thank you!
      and i completely agree with you. loving is something i never regret doing. it’s my Favorite memory and a great teacher too!

  4. Pingback: The Night after | A Guitar with no Strings·

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