Nick Jonas is a sweetheart
It’s a physical pain, like there’s a hole through the center of my chest. It’s a burden to breathe; the breaths come in short gasps, as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. The knots in my stomach tighten with every intake of air, and the blood in my veins rages like fire, beating against my eardrums. The cultivation of thought is absent. I am aware only of the rioting of memories and the turning of my stomach. I feel sick. It hurts to think. It hurts to breathe, and sleep does not come. I can feel it inside, the only thing left to feel after all has been internally numbed. And I can hear it. I can hear the world crying, and, overburdened by her tears and the absence of his touch, I hear my heart break.
But, like I said, none of this even begins to describe it. Not even close.
Actually I’m just trying to be poetic.
I want to know the world and the beauties she has to offer.
I want to kiss the ground with my feet, taking in every bit of this earth.
I want to look past that inherent evil in humanity, and find that little piece of perfection hidden in our hearts.
I want to see through clean eyes.
I want to truly live.