Walking the last of my guests to the front door, I smiled and giggled as one older gentleman told a joke. I didn’t even know half of the people that had shown up, but out of the politeness I was taught as a child, I respectfully invited them to stay.
Although the day hadn’t gone the way I planned, I still had plenty of food and drinks to offer to those who’d gone out of their way to make it to my event.
What was today? What was so special about it?
My engagement party. And what is meant to be one of the best days of my life has turned out to be one of the many terrible ones that seem to fill the majority of my life. Twenty-seven and nothing goes right.
Shutting my door tightly, I leaned against it for a moment before finally locking it and making my way back to my living room. Immediately, I came undone.
Amazed at myself, amazed at how I manage to put on the show of a lifetime every single day. To my family, to those who only see me in passing, I seem to be one of the happiest people in the world. Even in times of pain and sorrow, there’s a smile that can’t seem to fade away. I brighten days, I inspire, I heal with my positive attitude and kindness.
Ha. The type of person I am; I’d tell you that all is fine. I’m fine, I’m great. But deep down inside, I’m as broken as a porcelain doll that’s fallen to the floor and shattered into tiny pieces.
In the light, I’m happy. But when the lights are out and darkness creeps in… I cry.
Before I could fully make it to my bedroom, to the comfort of my bed; I’d slid out of my heels and collapsed in the middle of the floor. My body convulsing, heaving heavily as I tried to regain control of my emotions.
And once that guttural scream found it’s way out, slipped past my lips and echoed through my empty hallway, I knew there was no way I’d get up from this spot quickly. Tears falling for the fact that my ex-fiance just dumped me and took back his ring today, in front of family and friends and strangers. Tears falling for the heartbreak I felt as soon as the words “it’s over” slipped past his lips. Tears for the excruciating five hours I forced myself to sit through everyone telling me that it was his lost, and all would be fine. Tears for every compliment that was followed by “you poor dear”. Tears for the fact that I couldn’t let my family see that I’m in pain. Tears for the fact that the only bit of happiness I’ve ever truly felt was snatched away from me.
Tears for the fact that I have no one to turn to, no one to comfort me. Tears for the fact that once this moment is over, I have to return back to the notion that I’m a well put together woman that simply hasn’t found the best of luck or the right one or gotten her lucky break in life. Tears for the fact that I feel so sorry for myself.
This nightly cry, this heart wrenching feeling that all I may ever do for the rest of my life is cry to myself, alone and defeated. Wishing I could turn to someone but knowing that I can’t because no one else would understand. No one else would cry for me, with me. No one else would care how I truly feel… because it wouldn’t be the Angel that they’ve raised and become accustomed to. My feelings would be as invalid as they’ve always been, brushed aside as ‘just a phase’.
Lying on my back, I took deep breaths, wiping my eyes as more tears replaced the old ones. I just cry to myself.