SHATTERED HEARTS

There are days in a person's life where even a bullet to the head feels painless and a knife through the heart feels hopeful. These days are dreadful, we tend to pray for an end to stop the constant pain we feel in our chest and the continuous ache in our throats, like lumps refusing to be swallowed up. On days like this, happiness, hope, joy, love, all seem to be a metaphor. A false truth. Our minds register those concepts as non-existent. We forget that we were once happy, blissful, hopeful and filled with love and smiles. We forget the happy memories of running around, waking up to be met with their smiles, jumping on the bed to be caught by warm arms. We never expect such a fairytale to come to an end because the pressure and pain that comes after this blissful fairytale's demise becomes overwhelming enough to push us out of our senses, to break and destroy us. If we ever knew what was coming next, or if we could predict the future, do you think anyone would make a mistake? Do you think anyone would be willing to take all that pain in the name of love? Well, I didn't know until I was kept in that situation. It was the tenth of September, six more days before I turned twenty-three. It was going to be a blast, but not for me. I just wanted to curl up on my bed with my favorite soap opera on with lots of snacks and drinks arranged beautifully on my mattress. That is so not what Vivian had planned for me. It was supposed to be a surprise, but Isabel had already spilled the bean when she called earlier to ask if I still dig chocolate. That's her slang for "do you still go crazy about chocolate". Of course, yes! My subconscious screams. The buzzing of my phone as early as six in the morning becomes my alarm for the day. I could not help but grumble and murmur swear words underneath my breath as I searched the bed shelf for my phone. I live in a bedroom apartment alone and that already tells alot about me. “Hey, Elle do you still dig chocolate”, her soft pitched voice echoes around the room, I totally forgot, I am still connected to the speakers. I face palms as the sound of her voice sends shock signals to my skin. I try pushing my already tired eyelids up to read the other notifications I have on my phone screen. I think they would go easy on me this year, since Isabel is only asking for my favorite flavor. I still have two more hours before work. This is going to be a tiresome day. I say already exhausted. I work at an art gallery, I take people round and explain every craft and painting on the walls, the aesthetic value and stories behind them. I love art so much, probably why I was awarded employee of the month for five months straight. I don't joke with work as well, so I do deserve it. I give reviews and critics online for series, movies, animations, and books just to name it. I always keep myself busy, probably to avoid the loneliness that comes when I am less busy. I try to push my tired body from the comfort of my foam underneath it. I went straight to the bathroom, and then my dresser. I pick up what seems to be my usual Monday wear-a black high waist skirt, a crop t-shirt, my black heels, and a black bag. I walk out of the room in my joggers and hoodie, I walk towards the kitchen to prepare breakfast. I want to prepare everything as fast as I can before eight so that I can watch my favorite tv show while eating. Immediately I'm done, I reply to every text and voicemail. I think I took so much time doing all these that I lost track of the mission. It's now eight thirty-five. At Least I'm done with breakfast and dressed up. I quickly rushed out of the house and straight to my silver colored Camry Toyota. It is parked in front of the house, I didn't want to go through the stress of going out back to the garage and driving out from there, it is always stressful reversing the car from the garage. I quickly drove out the compound without even checking if I locked up properly. Well, we have security so I'm safe. All I was concerned about was my presentation. I was five minutes from f*****g my job. I was too invested too loose again. I remember getting questioned on my greeting habits. I never passed by anyone without greeting or acknowledging their presence, definitely why Jerry knew whenever I was absent. He is the first person I saw before entering the building. It's a five-story building covered in glass. It has an elevator and stairs decorated with vintage clothes. The walls have write ups of poets, painters, writers and famous philosophers. The art gallery room is painted in nude color with a touch of black by the sides. We have three halls containing the art works and they are similar. There are ten pillars holding a walkway in the middle of each hall. The paintings are hung on the wall while the crafts are placed in a glass box. The offices are at the top with tinted rubber glass and wood edges. We all have frost colored wall paintings in our offices. They are complimented with black and white lines at the top and bottom of the walls. The company has limited staff, it's not so much of a big shot art gallery, but it stands out from the rest with its aesthetic features and collections. I have never met the Owner, just the manager and other senior staff that have been working here since the uprising of the company. "Hey, Jerry good morning", I said when I saw him closing the gates. "Hi Elle, how is today going to be?" he asks.