It finally happened. I had been dropped like a hot poptart on a cold kitchen floor. And I knew it. There was no pretending anymore. I had always known this would come, -because all things that once make you happy never last, it was the one fact of life I was still struggling to learn -but I never expected to be forgotten so easily. I could feel my heart dropping to the bottom of my stomach, and then suddenly I was overcome with an exceeding numbness, as though I'd just been given a shot right before the doctor stitched you back together. I could hear him saying, "This won't hurt a bit." My head was spinning. How could he possibly understand? He was the one causing me pain. I couldn't feel, there was no emotion. Just a familiar silence. But it was the price I had payed so long ago; between pain and nothing, I'd chosen nothing. I hoped in time, when I'd eventually heal, with nothing but a scar, I would feel differently. I'd be grateful for as much time he'd given me. More than I asked for, more than I deserved. Maybe, one day, I'd see it that way.