Moving On

By Jenny Valentine

A familiar feeling took hold of her chest, or rather, her heart, and tears began to pool in her emerald eyes. It was pain. Hurt. It was the feeling of betrayal that gripped at her body’s core. From the center where her heart beats with a solemn passion, the feeling filtrates through every part of her body, spreading like a deadly disease. With this virus moving forth with in her being, she becomes limp, weak, and even saddened. The tears she attempts to fight back stroll down her porcelain cheeks, unwanted. Watching these raindrops disperse as the crash to the ground only make the hurtful memory more vivid, more clear. Thinking back, his senseless words pass through her mind once again.

“I can’t love you anymore…” It had left a feeling of heartbreak and vulnerability of being gullible echo with in her, overpowering any optimism that remained. For a time, she had been happy, and after going through such hardship. But that happiness had left, destroyed by him yet again. And once more, the feeling of being unwanted and frail plagued at her.

Shouldn’t he have understood the impact of his action? Shouldn’t he have known how I’d feel from this, and after such numerous betrayals? Or maybe he did. He knew her better than anyone else. He knew her strengths, her weaknesses, he understood her past and her present. So, then why? Why would he do such a thing?

Again, more tears continue to well up and pour. She wanted it to stop, for all of it to stop; the pain, the tears. But she was unable to, unable to turn off the faucet that leaked out such melancholy. Thus, she feels her internal pain worsen, infiltrating deeper into her self. Deeper the pain grows, and she feels herself weaken. And she falls to the hardwood floor with gravity’s pull. As she plummets, the realization of the pain’s immensity, it’s meaning, hits her, and the tears stop. For the pain it seems, will not leave, So what good will this sadness do me?

With no answer to respond, she regains her composure, and forcefully pushes these agonizing thoughts to the back of her head. Looking out a clear, tear-stained window, she sees light peeking through the dreary and crying gray clouds. There’s always hope, she thinks. And there’s moving forward…