In her throat lays a lump, so she makes a tea. As the water boils and the only other sound is coming from the kettle, she can hear her thoughts loud and clear, just as she can hear her heart breaking, unexpectedly, on repeat. First him, then him, then him, then him again. Happy to have gotten away. Sorry to have hurt. Still surprised she didn’t see the telltale signs; most intensely, that of her gut churning, yelling, screaming into oblivion.
Unaware that her throat is hurting due to her thoughts, causing her emotional, causing her physical feeling manifesting itself in her throat, she sips and wills it to pass, though she of all people should have the knowingness that it only passes in time.
Books can be read. Friends can be visited. Time can be spent on the things she loves, her hobbies, pure though they are, are just that. Because only time can pass her by for her to see the lesson meant to be learned; to realize how it came to this. Again.
To know another so well. To have years of flashes, like in an x-ray, showing through to her heart. Here, and there, and up there on one of their first meetings. Outfits, smiles, looks, feelings, conquered, comfort, won, and lost. Calls made. Words exchanged. The way she fit into his open arms every morning, as he motioned for her to cuddle up against him, her head laying on the right side of his chest.
If you are the she the narrator speaks of, how would you save oneself? How would you pick yourself up when all the inner voices and memories and pangs in your heart are bringing you so very down?
By noticing when they arise. By not blocking them out. By appreciating your ability to feel and knowing that this too shall pass. By not escaping in the negative (excessive anything) or into the positive (putting all your energy into others,) but instead by just feeling. Just feeling in the moment, giving yourself that moment and then moving forward. You see, when one pushes down all that needs to arise, it has no place to go. Nowhere and nohow to heal. Without healing one can never confront their downfalls; can never truly be pushed to move forward, learn their lessons, and ultimately grow. Catch yourself in what makes you miss another. Is it them specifically? Is it the pang of loneliness and former loves past those fools which rush in though they might be triggered to live on in your hearts imagination?
For this girl in which I speak is one who has grown all the much more wiser, for not playing into pride, but instead plays into the inner most workings of her heart and head, when all the world is asleep; when there is no where to go, no one to talk to, no way to distract for the world around her is still while everything in her head becomes a dark chaotic cloud.
A sip of tea. Swallowed whole. The heat immediately seeping through her body. Soothing her straight to the bones; straight to the core. All until many tomorrows pass her by and she is whole, again.
– Jenny Jen