For the longest of time, the walls stood firm. After years of carefully laying the bricks, the walls were solid, and to him, indestructible.
There was no danger then when it happened. He had gone through it with others before, he was just providing a shoulder for others to cry on, a listening ear. He had gone through the same situation before, much worse actually, and he knew how it felt, how important it was to have someone there to provide a shoulder.
Before long, a strange unfamiliar feeling overcame him. Was it … happiness.. that he was feeling? It was something that felt so ancient, that he was not even sure what it was. He ignored it then, partly because for the first time in years, he actually felt good, and partly because he was in denial.
And one night, she said something that devastated him. He was puzzled and asked himself, why this feeling of hurt? Why this feeling of pain? He reached inside, and it finally dawned on him. Those walls that he had carefully built, were no longer there. She had demolished it without him even knowing it. His heart was lying there naked, and unprotected.
He struggled to rebuild the walls, to try to protect his heart. And even before the cement dried, she came and demolished the walls again. This time she just smashed through as if the walls were made of air.
He gave up. She was a demolisher of walls, his walls. There is no way that he can build walls to withstand her. She was just too devastating. He let her shoot a straight path to his heart. And awaits the results.
The results were something that he had more or less expected, though he was hoping that for once, he might have a story that had a happy ending. Each indifference, each rejection without a second thought, each silence, he knew then that he had to accept the harsh reality.
The first time in years that his heart feels something, was pain. The gut-wrenching feeling of having all his inner organs twisted and knotted, where death seems to be a much better option than this. Where the last thing he feels before he falls into sleep, and the first thing he feels when he wakes up, was pain. Pounding the treadmill, the pain was not from his lungs, or legs, but from his heart. Where the endorphins from the run, nor the wobbling feeling from bottles of alcohol, are enough to wipe out the pain she had inflicted on his heart.
He mumbles feebly, “Ah, fuck it.“, though inside he knows that it the heart is too far vulnerable to follow those words. He only hope for mercy, for her to be as gentle as possible as she dismembers his heart.
And when the heart finally recovers, if it was at all possible, he will build the walls again.
