“Taylor, come here for a sec.”

Oh no. I know this sequence all too well. It’s always a serious talk when they call you by name. I’ve been called by name six times before by a guy. I’ve had my heart broken six times before.

I slowly walk over, trying to prolong this. As if maybe this extra few seconds I’m trying to buy will help him clear his mind and he’ll tell me he loves me. As if.
“What do you need baby?” I try to smooth things over, conceal the tremors that run through my entire being, as if my very soul is having an earthquake. An earthquake that’s about to shatter my heart again.

“Well, we’ve been going out for awhile. You’re a great girl, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not feeling it anymore. I think we should go our separate ways, you know? See other people.” He was obviously sugarcoating it. Something deep inside of me appreciated his intentions, but his sweet words were at the moment only making me angry.

“I mean, I hope we can still be friends.”

To my surprise, I laugh. Not amused. Just an empty, bitter laugh trying to prove a point. “No, John, we can’t. Because I’m never going to get over the fact that you called me love. I’m never going to get over the kisses we shared. I want to try and return things the way they were, I really do. But it’s impossible to do that when every time I see your lips I remember the times they were on mine!”

“Tay, I waited for the right time. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“I know that! But there’s never a ‘right time’ to break someone’s heart. I know John, I know. This isn’t all your fault. But I am hurt no matter what you tried to do. This, I mean, how long have you felt like this? Just yesterday we were perfect! Everything was right! How do things change so quickly? Tell me John!” I squeeze my eyes shut. I won’t cry. I won’t. The tears come spilling out soon after.

“Aw, Tay, come on. We weren’t that serious. I just, you know, changed my mind. You don’t need to go off on me like this.”

“Shut up! Maybe in your mind we weren’t serious but in mine we were!” I collapse onto a bench nearby and rock my body back and forth. I try to imagine I am a little girl, lying, sobbing in my mother’s arms. I attempt to calm myself by counting, but I only reach seven and then begin to sob even harder. Seven. Seven boys. Seven goodbyes. Seven times now that I will have woken up in the morning, head on the table, face and hands sticky from the chocolate ice cream I drowned myself in the night before. Seven times that I will walk to the mirror that same morning and almost scream at the sight of my puffy, red face. Seven times for a heart to break is seven times too many. I am not fragile now. I am broken.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Tay, please don’t do this baby. Please.”

I jerk my head up. I’m livid now, trying to keep the screams bottling up inside me from exploding and coating themselves all over John. This isn’t his fault. He has a right to do this if he feels it’s not working. So why am I so angry, so confused, if I know all these things? I brush John’s hand away. “Please. Please. John, I. You know what just go away. I’m sorry. Just go, please.” My words come out in broken spurts. I hope John won’t tell anyone about how hysterical I am. I’ve always waited til I reached home to fling open the door and burst into tears. But I can’t hide. I can’t do this anymore.

All the emotions in my heart are making it swollen. Each breakup, each jerk that lifts me up and then drops me down at the worst possible moments. Because there’s never any warning. It’s just, BAM! A tidal wave of hurt and emotions. Every time it gets harder and harder to rebuild myself. My fragile, glass heart becomes more and more cracked. The emotions swell up and start to leak out. Each time there are more emotions, there are also more cracks. It’s broken now. It’s shattered.

The thing that scares me most is I’m full of doubt now. Full of doubt that there’s anyone willing to pick up the pieces.