Perspective

Sweat trickles down her forehead, her throat is throbbing, her eyes bloodshot red, roll involuntarily.
Hands firmly clasping the bowl of the toilet, she retches into it, emptying more of herself with every contraction of her stomach.
In between deep breathes and attempts at making her vision less blurry, her mind wanders to happier times......

It doesn’t seem like so long ago because it wasn’t all that long ago.
Patiently, she waits for the storm to subside.
With each fresh outpouring, a part of her feels more content.
Our body and soul are supposed to be in tandem with each other, right?
So it’s imperative that her body feels as empty, hollow, and broken as her soul.

More retching.
More contentment.
More pain.
More differences. 

All seemed to be just wishful thinking.
He said, there was no time. 
She said,talking was the only way to make this better. 
He said she never understood. 
She said, he would never understand what happened that night.
 He said, he knew.
The argument was cyclical, endless.

When she looked up, she couldn't see his reflection anymore.
Instead, she saw tired, empty eyes haunting her, tear-stains marring her own soft face, hollow cheeks and a broken morale.
If she hadn't been knocked to the floor, she'd be fighting hard and strong.

It’s easy to fall in love. 
When you fall in love, you feel you’re done- and that's the sad part. 
It never struck either of them before.

When all was expelled, she looked at her phone and saw that it was not flashing. 
He made the mistake of believing she was strong.
She made the mistake of believing he cared. 

"It isn't what happens to us that cause us to suffer; it's what we say to ourselves about what happens."