I read once that there are two kinds of anger: the dry anger and the wet. Dry anger is pure fury at a person who is entirely at fault. Wet anger, as I have just discovered, is much much more painful. Wet anger is the kind of anger that has tears falling in an unconscious stream of disappointment and hurt. Your nose runs as fast as the tears do and they merge together until it is indistinguishable what falls from your face.

Wet anger is anger that comes from the hurt of your heart. It makes itself known the way the tears mimic the blood that oozes out of the crack in your heart. It makes itself known with every hiccuping sob that leaves you gasping for air because your heart is running out of oxygen to sustain itself. It makes itself known through the sore puffy red eyes that no longer hold any light that your heart is alive, but it is broken and no longer the same. And when you pass out from crying, that's just your heart saying it needs a break from all this hurting.

Despite the fact that I told him I wanted him to stop bothering me, it still hurt hearing those words from Jaxon. I screamed and cried words I can't even remember -watching remain blank and begging to see him crack at least half an inch as long and deep as mine, but he didn't. Instead, I was dragged away by my friends who tried desperately to understand why my face was so wet and yet I was so mad.

Now, we're here. My eyes are sore and puffy and red and so so very dim. Mali and Emma flank both my sides in a comforting embrace while making me re-live the pain so they can help.

"Harley, please. We just want to help," Emma spoke softly

"Yeah, babe...Let us help you as you've helped us." Mali added

They were so soft and nice and warm - like a machine that was keeping me alive when I felt like I was going to die from the pain. So I told them my story from the top to the bottom while clinging onto them so that my heart wouldn't break again because I was so tired. My eyes were really really tired.

They held me close and whispered comforting words in my ear.

"It's gonna be okay, love. We're here for you. You'll be okay."

"I'm so sorry, Harley...Do you need anything? Water? Ice cream? Chocolate? I'll get both."

So Emma left to get the food and blanket and the rest of the post break-up basket that every girl needs after a break-up while Mali stayed with me- holding me and stabilizing me from breaking down again.

"You know...maybe you should just talk to Jaxon properly. I know you don't want to hear this right now, but...Harley, I didn't believe in love until I saw the both of you. You two were so perfectly imperfect and it fit together so well. There must be a reason he said and did all that." She whispered softly as if speaking too loud would shatter the universe.

"Guys like him aren't good with their feelings. Guys in general aren't particularly good with emotions because they weren't raised that way. Maybe what he did was some twisted way of helping you?" She suggested. "Either way, I don't think that Jaxon did that because he was an asshole. He cares about you. I'm sure of it"

I slumped and looked down with a soft sigh of defeat. She was right. Jaxon wasn't the type of guy who was in touch with his feelings. "So I should talk to him?" I asked softly -this time afraid that I would break if I spoke too loud.

"The hell, you shouldn't," Emma came into the room with the bag of goods and dropped them on my bed behind us. "What the hell, Mali? That's bullshit and you know it."

"You said it yourself, Harley, he's hurt you over and over again. This was the last straw, wasn't it? This is what seals the fact that he's an asshole and you need to move on. This isn't good for you. He isn't good for you. You deserve someone better -someone who will treat you right and in the way that you deserve."

And she was right too. Side by side are the living embodiments of my subconscious: forgiveness or revenge. to love or to leave, red or white.

"Come on, Em. What Jaxon said was a bit over the top. Do you really believe that was all on purpose? He was trying to prove Harley right for whatever reason." Mali insister

"Do you not remember what Jaxon was like?? He was an asshole, Mali - always has and always will be. He may have had his spouts of kindness, but people like him don't change. Sometimes, people are just truly mean. How many times has he hurt, Harley? How many times has she forgiven him, given him another chance, and then cry like this all over again?! Do you actually want to keep this cycle going??" Emma looked at her other friend in disbelief.

And Mali looked like Emma got her there. She paused and knew that she was right, but she was not one to back down on what could possibly be right too.

She sighed and shook her head "I'm just saying that there is always a reason to everything. He's been so kind until now, why did he stop? You're wrong in saying that people like that don't change, Emma. There is always a good to everybody. It will hurt trying to find it, but it's there. It's somewhere in there and who's going to help bring it out if we just give up on everybody and not hear them out?"

But it was a weak argument and Mali already lost when she paused at Emma's words. A part of herself knew Emma was right, and that was all it took for me to choose red - the color of the blood that seeped out of my broken heart, like the color of my eyes after the hours of crying, like the color of anger, hurt, love, and passion.

At that point, I realized my own topic to share with whoever is out there: Red was two contrasting things all at once. It was the perfect way to describe the wet anger that stemmed from both love and hate. It was the most perfect color for the heart that both loves and hates what it wants.

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