The pitter patter of rain tapped rhythmically on the metallic roof, composing songs and telling stories with each drop. A cool breeze blew through the window, brushing its fingers gently through Violet’s ember hair. She shivered gently, burrowing herself deeper into the soft cocoon of her blanket, clutching at her pillow as though it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

The night was saddened as the moon replaced the sun, casting sad shadows that stretched hopelessly across the fields and under streetlamps. Yet, the warm glow from those lights was nice, radiating dancing angels behind Violets eyelids as she tried to sleep away the pain.

The rain was illuminated by the stars, like tiny meteors crashing into an imperfect world, against the sky that only got darker as the days rolled forward. Thunder rumbled, spearing her silence with its shattering roar and causing goosebumps to crawl up her spine.

These feelings are funny things. All too commonly, these young heartbreaks are seen as arrogant and stupid: the world deciding that two children are never meant to last. Violet thought that her love story would break this barricade, and yet, it ended just like the rest of them.

Oliver and Violet had been dating for almost four years – about midway through their senior year, where they became high school sweethearts, to the end of university where they had begun to plan their future together.

There were fantasies and mind maps, apartment ideas on Pinterest boards, a list of baby names, and dream holiday destinations: all things that would remain in her mind forever.

But now, she was crying wrapped in her bedsheets, the rain outside mirroring her heart and the gentle nighttime sounds of swaying trees doing nothing to ease her sadness. Her diary sat untouched on her bedside table, its fraying edges matching brilliantly with the tears in her heart.

The dam finally broke today, a page read where it lay open.
My numbness ran away and now I feel like I’m dying
I want it to come back. It was nice when it was numb.
My brain was empty, but at least my heart wasn’t exploding.
We’d been dating for four years. FOUR WHOLE YEARS.
What was the point if he was going to leave me anyway?
What was the point when I would end up spending weeks
rotting on my mattress? I don’t want to feel this.

What she didn’t understand, was why they truly broke up. She had awoken from a peaceful night’s sleep, treading gently down the stairs of her childhood home to find him sitting at her kitchen table.

“We need to talk,” he had said, his voice gruff and eyes swollen as though he’d been crying.

She did the thing any good girlfriend would do: she sat across from him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it gently. “Anything you need,” she smiled encouragingly.

“We need to break up.” Violet’s heart fell to the pit of her stomach, a weird tightening feeling coiling in her gut.

“Wha—” she trailed off, to stunned to make her voice work. “We need to break up?” Her voice was timid and small, and she dropped his hand with a thump. “Why do you need we need to break up? Oliver?”

As she thought back on that moment, fresh tears welled in her eyes, stinging like the salty water in crashing waves. Her stomach clenched, her heart breaking all over again, just as it did every time she remembered.

She remembers the way he looked at her, purple bags hanging heavy under his eyes and thin lips turned into a frown. She remembered the way he hadn’t hugged her in weeks, and how cold her arms felt as she hugged them across her chest tightly.

And now, they were colder than ever, despite the warmth the blanket provided her. She sniffled, shoving her face deeper into the pillow and trying so, so hard to forget.

It was days like this that made her wish she still lived with her parents. She missed her mother’s tight hugs and her father’s gentle words. She missed the homely smells of half-baked muffins and rose candles. And most of all, she missed the comfort her own bedroom gave her.

Instead, she was lying in a half-furnished apartment in a city she’s never lived in before, miles away from her family and even further away from her only place of sanity.

When Violet did manage to get out of bed – albeit many hours later – she took one look at herself in the mirror and froze.

Her once straight brown hair was tangled, the strands sitting like a hat of twigs upon her head. The eyes that people usually told her where chocolate brown where surrounded by the pink evidence of endless tears, the sparkle that usually adorned them having sunk into the mattress along with her happiness.

She’d lost a noticeable amount of colour in her skin, weeks of being locked up in her house and not eating anything remotely nutritional having drank the usual tan colour from it.

Violet sighed, the puff of air escaping her lips before she even realised she moved. She rubbed her stinging eyes, as though trying to trying to scrub all the memories away with them. Her legs felt tingly and numb, and she groaned dramatically as her legs stretched with each step.

First time break ups are always going to be strange and confusing. In fact, she didn’t even know what sparked her in the first place.

As she trudged towards the shower, her movements sluggish, she replayed their final conversation over and over in her head, like a broken record player.

“Why?” She had asked him again, slumping in the hard wooden chair as her stomach squeezed uncomfortably.

He sighed, eyes trailing to where he was picking at a loose thread on his jumper sleeve. “You don’t really love me.”

Violet froze, lost for words. Her heart squeezed with sympathy. What could I ever do to make him think that? “I’m confused,” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

“I think you love the idea of me.”

“No.” She spoke defiantly. “I do love you. You’re… you’re my boyfriend. You wouldn’t be my boyfriend if I didn’t.” Her heart was pounding, pressing against her chest as though trying to warn her. Leave. It’s not worth it. His mind is already somewhere else.

“Violet.” His words where clear, cutting through the air like a blade. “You might love me as a friend. You might love me as someone who’s company you enjoy. But you don’t love me as your partner.”

“Yes, I do—” she pressed.

“Don’t try to argue this, my love. You don’t need to pretend to be someone you’re not.”

And that was it. The sentence that confused the absolute shit out of her. “How am I pretending?”

“You treat me the same as you treat any of your other friends, other than kissing and sex and stuff, which you never seemed to enjoy that much anyways.”

And now she was mad. How dare he accuse of her faking her love. Her fists clenched as she took a deep breath; a feeble attempt to remain calm.

“No, I didn’t—”

“I’m not mad Violet; you don’t need to defend yourself.” He didn’t seem upset, or angry, or as though he felt betrayed. “I could tell you would fake it half the time anyway,” he smirked, rolling his eyes fondly.

She blushed, ducking her head and trying not to let the truth behind those words be seen on her face. “It’s a canon experience,” she murmured, glad for something to laugh about. “I didn’t hate it though,” she added quickly, not wanting him to feel… incapable.

“I know. Physically, you were there, but I could see in your eyes that you were elsewhere in your head.”

“I… I thought that was normal.”

“To not genuinely enjoy sex with your partner? To force yourself to get through it because it’s not as nice as everyone says it is? That’s not normal, Violet.”

What’s wrong with me then?

It wasn’t as though she didn’t enjoy it, it was more like the thing that people had hyped up for her entire life – the closeness and intimacy she’s supposed to feel with her partner, the pleasure she’s supposed to get – just didn’t exist. And obviously, everything is always hyped up, so she thought it was normal to just go through the motions and pretend.

After all, wasn’t that was everyone did? Apparently not.

She had written that entry several days earlier:

He just broke up with me. I’m so fucking confused.
He told me I didn’t love him.
What did I do wrong? What could I have done better?
I have so many regrets and I don’t know what I did to deserve them.
I have regrets about things I don’t even have guilt about.
When did he start feeling this way?
Did he force himself to stay with me?
I haven’t even cried yet. I just feel numb.

As the warm shower water rolled calmingly over her bare shoulders, she took the time to ponder what he’d said many weeks earlier. “You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not… you never seemed to enjoy… you were elsewhere… that’s not normal…”

Oliver was the perfect partner. He made her feel safe when she was scared, comforted her when she felt lost, and always made her feel so unbelievably loved. He was an attractive man, and never failed to ensure she knew she was seen and heard. Never once in their relationship did he look at another girl…

But she did.