To The Boy I loved...

The alarm rang repeatedly, shrill and loud. Reaching over, I slapped the annoying noise away. Thud. Oh God, not again. Smashing the screen of my phone had become a habit of mine. Another thing that had become a habit of mine was sleeping. Seriously, I was sleeping for England and there was so much to do. But I was avoiding everything. Heartbreak was s**t and it took every ounce of energy in me to keep breathing. Idly, my mind wandered to him and a s***h of pain sliced through me, rendering me broken yet again. Still, thoughts of him plagued well into my every waking moment and at night, when I fell asleep, it was to thoughts of him. Was he broken like me? Was he drinking again? I hoped he wasn’t since he came out of the nick and it’d be stupid of him to get rowdy and end up there again. And alcohol usually meant he was rowdy and looking for a fight. Why was it after what he subjected me that I still felt this unnatural worry for him? And yes, it was unnatural. Because bleeding your heart for someone who ripped your heart out was plain dumb. Yet here I was and worrying and hurting.