If you could see me now

                                                                             Cecelia Ahern

When you drop a glass or a plate on the ground it makes a loud crashing sound. When a window shatters, a table leg breaks, or a picture falls off the wall, it makes a noise. But as for your heart, when that breaks, it’s completely silent. You would think as it’s so important it would make the loudest noise in the whole world or even have some ceremonious sound like the gong of a cymbal or the ringing of a bell. But it’s silent and you almost wish there was a noise to distract you from the pain.

If there is a noise, it’s internal. It screams and no one can hear it but you. It screams so loudly your ears ring and your heart aches. It thrashes around in your chest like a great white caught in the sea, it roars like a mother bear whose cub has been taken, that’s what it looks like and that’s what it sounds like, a thrashing, panicking, trapped. Great big beast, roaring like a prisoner to its own emotions. But that’s the thing about love; no one is untouchable. It’s as wild as that, as raw as an open flesh wound exposed to salty water. But when it actually breaks, it’s silent, you’re just screaming on the inside and no one can hear it.