But my heart, oh, it was the weight of the world.
I was pathetic.
It was the most agonizing experience, to be so alone, so truly, and completely alone, after being so utterly content, to the point where you forgot that it was the end of the world. Could one imagine it? Could one fathom? To have your entire world taken, watch the earth crumble before you, see everyone and everything that was important to you turn to rot and death and then dust?
And then, when it couldn't get any worse, it doesn't!
You meet someone, you realize that you are not alone, and not only that, you meet that one person that you were born to be with; you share these brief but stupendously perfect moments, you share experiences you know that no other human being could ever experience, and you fall asleep utterly in love.
And you wake up, and it's all been taken way from you.
You are alone, again, in a sea of death, with only the memory of her eyes to comfort you.
You begin to grow mad, as the days progress, you lay in bed, unable to do anything. unable to move, to feed yourself, to do that which is utterly necessary to do to meet your most basic needs.
This is what I encountered for the next few days.
I tried, oh how I tried, to get myself going.
At one point, I got up, tear stained, head swollen with sorrow, brain sore and groggy, pressing against my skull, and through the pain, I drove.
I got as far as El Paso before I pulled into a bar, and, shaking, knowing I shouldn't, I tried to drink it all away.
Three years of sobriety down the drain.
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