but it's okay baby, only words bleed

When you hear a song that reminds you of him on the radio, let yourself feel your heart constrict. Let yourself feel waves of sadness hit you continuously until you finally break down and sob so hard you don't think you could ever breathe normally again.

Pause, take a few shaky steps to your closet and attempt to pull out a dress to change into so you can take a shower. Let yourself crumble back onto your bed when you realise you can't. 

When you feel like you physically can't produce anymore tears and you're sick of wallowing in self-pity, pull yourself together. Switch on the lights and throw away all the used tissues. Realise how many trees you've killed in one night. 

Allow yourself to be dragged out of bed by your best friend and go for a sleepover that was organised to cheer you up. Let yourself laugh till your sides ache and start to wonder what you were so upset about hours ago. Listen when your friends fill you in about their lives. Listen, actually listen, and realise that life goes on no matter what. 

Be thankful for an older sister who went through the same thing three years ago because she'll tell you that you're doing great even when you relapse and hide you from curious stares when you start tearing in public. Tell your parents you love them when they hold you as you collapse into their arms.  Tell your parents you're sorry too, for breaking their hearts by letting yours be broken. 

Stay away from social media, or don't. Delete what you have to, not out of spite but because you need to survive.  

Write, because you want to document these feelings and remember this love you once had that you fought so fiercely for. Let yourself accept that it's gone now. Read articles online and stories of people with similar experiences to normalise, not trivialise, yours. 

Sleep early to feel optimistic about tomorrow but know that when you wake up in the morning, the pain will still be there. 

Rinse and repeat until you're alright again.