You hit me with your hateful glares. Your eyes always ask me why.


“Why did you do this to me?”


“Why did you break everything we had?”


As I walk past you, my heart breaks into a million splinters that stab my very soul from inside out. Heart-breaker, they call me. Heart-breaker becomes my new identity.


You beseech me some times, beg me to come back to you. You tell me how it hurts all the time and how you cannot sleep. You tell me you are in pain and I know that I have left you so. I know just as well that I cannot come back and heal you.


Because that would be multiple levels of wrong and I have to make this right. I have to make this right for us and I cannot see another way to do this.


But they don’t know this and you don’t want to see this.


Everybody sees me as the vicious, poisonous woman who only wants to cause pain. In their eyes, I am being stupid, tearing apart a perfectly good painting. You are burning down what you should cherish, they tell me. You are a heart breaker, they tell me. A hurt machine is all you are.


I want to block out their cries. I want to vanish into a void. I want to hear that this is okay, that I am doing the right thing. I want my own army of supporters too.


Despite being the heart-breaker that I am, I wish I could magically heal you. I wish I could tell you that this is not the end. There is life after us, just as there was life before us. You will walk again and you will win again but you need to begin. I have moments of weakness in which I want to lie to myself again and go back just to see the smile on your face. Don’t get me wrong, I do not love you. I just know the person you once were and want you to get back on your feet. Stop wasting your life.


When you tell me you cannot sleep, you forget that I get nightmares too. When you tell me everything hurts and you cannot get up, you don’t think that maybe I cannot get up, too. Worse still, for the rest of the world, I have no reason to be morose. For the rest of the world, I am a traitor. You think I stabbed you, too.


When you tell me you think everything is lost, you never once think that I might hold myself so responsible for it that I become a criminal in my own eyes. When you claim that death was better than a life like this, my mind does not think twice before escalating myself to murderer from heart-breaker. And then I cannot breathe.


All the songs in the world glorify your pain. They poke and prod at me and they ask me questions, too.


“Why would you wanna break/ A perfectly good heart/Why would wanna take my love/ And tear it all apart?”


There is no song for me, my love. There is no glory for me. No team stands by me and no one knows my pain. If I broke your heart, nobody sees that I did it for our best interests. Nobody sees that being with the wrong person is worse than being all by yourself. Nobody sees that I suffer too. Nobody knows that I am right.


Because I am a heart-breaker. A heart-breaker is all I am.


~ Shreya Sawleshwarkar | Edited by Farrokh Jijina


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