Of final days and vacant eyes.

On a morning that I should have woken up feeling awful and nauseous, I awake at noon physically perfect. As the cold invades the air outside, I am clad in pajama pants and warm socks. I had the best sleep anyone who went to sleep at 5am, drunk could ask for. I wake up, wrapped in my blanket, my eyes flutter open, in the manner of a Disney princess. I linger in bed for a moment, for fear that if I got up, my headache would attack. For a moment, I sit and enjoy how the sun colours my bedroom red through the curtains. I slowly sit up, cautious. Nothing. I feel perfectly fine. I think, 'perhaps I didn't drink as much as I thought I did'. The scent of morning coffee and vanilla pervade the room. As the events of the night before run through my head, I smile and then it hits me. Those last few images before my eyes shut, before the warm drive home. How I felt a pain I never imagined I could feel. The words I said that brought tears to his eyes. As I decide to get out of bed, something washes over me. A dull throbbing pain that numbs my body. Right in the pit of my chest, something is set flame. It burns, strong and hard. It hurts. Its too late to go back to bed, definitely too late to try to go back to sleep. I had left that shelter, I was now raw and exposed. I wake up to a pain greater than any hangover, greater than any injury. Tears brim once again to my virgin morning eyes and as I try to fight this pain I reach out because I'm not capable of dealing with this. I don't want to deal with this. I don't want to leave him. I never want to see tears in his eyes again. His beautiful blue eyes. I never want to hear him apologising through his tears again. I never want to feel him wipe my tears away again. I never want to feel that way again. Metaphorically I am loading my gun, checking its crevaces, tightening what I need to. I deal with this, the only way I know how. I'm shaking as tears flow seamlessly down my cheeks. I've been expecting this, I've known it was coming. Yet the pain is still every bit as startling. In my mind, I wrap my short fingers around the cold gun, gradually lifting it. I pull it to my temple and I close my eyes. For a moment, I am vacant of emotion, my eyes flash blank. For a moment I am liberated. My eyes reel open as the gun falls to the ground. I am bleeding. Am I infected. It has now been an hour since I woke up and I wish I never had. You should know that the darker the X, the warmer the gun will be. Today is the day I awoke with a broken heart.