Thursday, April 3, 2008


Many years ago (between 10 and 12, probably), I had a friend whose girlfriend left him. She left him for someone else, and it tore him apart. He fell hard, and he really grieved.
I remember visiting him on a particularly rough evening. He was in so much pain. It was hurtful just to watch him sitting there, nearly drowning in liquor and cigarette smoke. The room was dim and he was just sitting there like a zombie. On the CD player, he was playing Metallica's "Nothing Else Matters", over and over and over again for hours on end. Nothing Else Mattered but the horrible pain of having his heart broken. It was powerful music, and to this day, every time I hear that song, I think of the evening I sat up with him.

My friend is an avid gun collector, and all this time, there were dozens of guns just a few feet away. There was also ammunition. I began to wonder if he would consider using one of those guns on himself.

The entire scene was bitter and ominous and painful.

This friend is usually just the opposite; he's the life of the party, always cracking jokes and trying to be funny. This was the only time I'd seen him so devastated.

He ended up ok, eventually, though the memory still hurts him even to this day.

This week, though, I was reminded of him again, because I had my heart broken on Wednesday. Broken. Shattered. Ground into hummus. Nuked. I'm not even sure I HAVE a heart anymore. Few things are as painful as learning that someone you loved-- someone you thought you had some kind of special connection with-- learning that that person is deeply in love with someone else.

The world stops.
The universe stops.
If I still had a heart, it would certainly have stopped by now as well.
I cried for most of the day on Wednesday, and have cried today as well. Heck, there are tears running down my face even as I type this.
I am in so much pain.

Yesterday was truly awful.
I've had my heart broken before, of course, yet that doesn't make this time hurt any less. In fact, somehow this time hurts more.

Earlier today, I was looking through my CD's, wondering what music I wanted to hear. I wanted something powerful, something that would help me to grieve.
And I saw my Metallica CD. I'd bought it years ago because I'd learned to like it, thanks to the aforementioned friend.

I started listening to "Nothing Else Matters"...
And the tears flowed freely yet again.

I feel the way my friend must have felt, all those years ago.
The awful feeling of rejection and alone-ness. The numb constant ache.
The dichotomy between wanting to hit something over and over again, and yet simply struggling to find the energy to breathe.

I understood the need to sit in a dimly-lit room, surrounded by alcohol and pain.
Even though I haven't chosen to deal with this through getting drunk, I understood why HE needed to.
And the thing with the guns... yeah. I understand that too.

Unfortunately, I don't own any.

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