Fall from Love

too. You know why? Because I know that one day I’m going to get my friend back. Not just pieces of her here and there. One day, when your heart heals, I’ll get all of you back.” She pauses and then smiles at me. “But the whole not showering thing is pretty gross. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to tell you how bad you smelled.”
    I gasp and my mouth falls open at her honesty. Grabbing a pillow, I chuck it towards her face.
    “Hey, I’m just being honest.” She laughs, throwing her hands up to protect herself form the next hit. “One day, you smelled so bad that I thought I was going to have to leave the apartment.”
    I lean over, grab another throw pillow and chuck it at her.

 
     
    Chapter Two
     
    We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.
    ~ Joseph Campbell
     
    It’s impossible to understand how not having a person in your life can totally change you, until it actually happens. The day Adam died, it changed me—totally and completely. The happy, vivacious, full of life girl I was when he was alive has since been replaced with a sad, empty, shell of a person.
    Most days, it feels like I’m drowning and it takes every ounce of my strength just to keep my head above the water.
    Before losing Adam, I never knew true heartbreak. Sure, there were times in my life where I thought my heart had been broken, like when I was five and my favorite cat, Tiger, died. I remember crying to my mom, asking her why my chest was hurting so bad. She told me that my heart was just breaking for Tiger. Then, there was the time Daniel Worthington broke up with me in eleventh grade and I thought my heart had been shattered into a million pieces. I thought I’d never get over it, I thought I’d never love again.
    Now, after losing Adam, I’m sure I know true, irrefutable heartbreak. Without him, it feels like a piece of my heart is actually missing. A few days after he died, my crazy, grief-stricken mind actually wondered if a person could live without a heart. Not in the literal sense, of course, but in the sense that living without one would prevent you from feeling; that, without a heart, you could be numb. I questioned what it would be like to drift through life and just not feel; knowing it would probably be miserable and lonely, but wondering if it would be better than the alternative of actually feeling the pain that sometimes comes with life.
    Now, after living like that for the last few months—totally numb and shutting out everyone I’ve ever loved—I know you can’t live without a heart. Sure, you can exist. You can still breathe. You can still function as a human being… but you’re not living .
    It wasn’t until this past weekend, when I had gone out with Jenna that I realized I missedfeeling . I missed going out and having fun. I missed singing. I missed my best friend. I missed my family. And most of all, I missed me.
    Looking down, I glance at the pages in front of me that are covered with sad and depressing words. I’m not sure why it happened this morning, but I felt an overwhelming urge to write. I wasn’t sure what was going to come of the words, but I knew that I at least needed to get them out of my head and down on paper; otherwise, they would haunt me until I did.
    “Hey, you’re up early,” Jenna says through her yawn as she walks into the kitchen.
    “Couldn’t sleep.” I lift my coffee cup to my lips and take a sip.
    “Anxious about classes starting?” She stands on her tip toes and reaches for a coffee cup.
    “Yeah, something like that.” The truth is that I’m terrified. I’m not looking forward to going back to campus. Too many memories.
    “Whatcha working on?” she asks, peering over my shoulder.
    I lean over and cover the paper with my hands.
    “Come on, show me,” she whines.
    I shake my head. “No, it’s not done yet. It’s actually just a bunch of random words.”
    She comes to stand beside me and her face brightens. “Is it a song? Oh, my God, Holly, are you writing a song?”
    I can’t help laughing at her melodramatic optimism. “I’m trying, but it’s been a while, so I’m a little rusty.”
    She waves off my doubt and rolls her eyes. “Whatever, it’s going to be great like they all are. You better tell me before you sing it at open mic night. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”
    My stomach turns at the thought of singing any of the words that are scribbled on the piece of paper