Have you ever truly had your heart broken?
I have. My heart has been ripped in two more than once. It’s been ripped out and stamped on and peppered with broken glass. It’s not always a love interest, that’s the weird thing. I think some people believe that when you’re with someone and they go away, then that’s having their heart broken, but it’s probably not. That’s sad, yes. Depending on the relationship, it may tear your heart out, but, more often than not, it’s the idea of being with that person, and what it now means to be alone until the next thing comes along and then you heal.
Healing is the key.
Having your heart broken never heals. It never gets fixed. You paper over it but the paper becomes dated and old and worn and it tears and things aren’t ever quite the same again.
There’s a couple of parts of my heart that are truly broken. They’ll never really recover. There’s cracks there that I don’t mind the world seeing, but a couple of cracks that I don’t really want to show anyone. Those are mine and I don’t think there’s anyone that will ever understand.
There’s a loneliness I can’t shake. I get glimpses of what it will be like to not be alone, but I can’t hold on to those things. They flit by me, passing like the headlights of a car across my wall through the blinds, just that moment of illumination then it’s gone.
I don’t think having your heart broken means what everyone seems to think it means. It’s losing something you’ll never get back and you can never, ever replace.
Things hurt. Things hurt bad. I’ve had lots of hurt in my life. But there are things that have left a part of my soul broken and dark and what are you supposed to do with that? What do you do with those things?
The end of March and the beginning of April are difficult Months for me. This took me by surprise, although I knew it was coming.
New memories. New connections. Love of many kinds, and moments, stolen. These are the things that get you through. These are the things that make everything seem brighter and more worthwhile. Suddenly you remember that you forgot that your heart had been broken. It’s still broken, it’s still bleeding, but it doesn’t matter as much any more.
I sometimes forget the pain. I sometimes forget and it feels good. I want to forget and I’d like somebody to understand and be there in the convoluted ways that I want. At times I see the potential for that to happen and those times pass like so many strands of hair beyond the eye of the storm.