from deviantart ; thanks. open letter to broken hearts A deviation by ~girldisrupted (© 2006) open letter to broken hearts - Complete Piece



We write pages of what it means to love and hurt and let go. There are bruises that fade, scars that don't, and broken bones that never heal back into the way they were. There are train platforms. Airport departure halls. Unfinished mugs of coffee, stained with lip gloss. Unmade beds. [And the words 'I love you' trapped on the lips of men and women who have no one to speak to.] In this italicized version of love-not-given, we whisper into parentheses of hope that aren't hopeful at all cause we're always walking away or standing still while someone else turns their back on us. And yet we still keep coming back for more. Why do we insist on falling in love over and over when we inevitably fall out? We crash to the ground with sickening thuds and arms that snap like twigs because they no longer have anyone to hold. And we don’t learn from our mistakes. Apparently I am the Mistress of Not Learning From My Mistakes, with my dedicated naivety [foolishness] to the art of tripping over and over again. Over my own feet. Or his careless leg, stretched out, unaware of the people around him. And it's not a specific "He" that comes to mind in this moment that does not want to end – but rather the collective mass of faces that I have christened Rejection. [Failure] So why do we do it? Why do we have to spend the rest of our lives with one person? And why are we made to feel like shit [less than shit] if we're alone? I'm 25. Single. And apparently according to the society I live in – on the threshold of spinsterhood. [And there is no knight in shining armour to sweep you over this threshold. Instead you step over with your own two feet into your condemnation.] Fuck that. That isn’t what concerns me. What concerns me is that I am alone and I'm tired of being alone. But I'm also tired of caring. I'm tired of beginnings despite their excitement and the flutters in my stomach when I wonder if he cares, if he thinks about me, if I'm reading into things more than I should. I am tired of waiting for something to happen despite the pure joy of finding out that you were right and that he did want you and then he kisses you and it's like you feel alive for the first time. Ever. He teaches you how to breathe and you never want things to change. But they change. Or things could go in the opposite direction at breakneck speed. Because what if it isn’t pure joy that waits at the end of this road[in a ditch by the side of a back street]. What if it's another rejection. [Remember I am one who doesn’t learn from her mistakes. Or so I've been told]. What if he would only say 'You shouldn't have said that' or 'You shouldn't have thought that.' Or worse. What if there is only silence? And now? There are thoughts of possibilities that are so far away. Plane rides. First times for more things than I care to think of right now. And what ifs. And pain right below my chest. Why do they say the heart is the seat of emotions? Aristotle thought it was the liver. But to me – it is that place between the lungs, below the heart, embedded in the blood that flows but not trapped within the confines of a beating heart. No. It's in the cavity. And rightly so. Because emptiness only seems fitting to be the home for these barren feelings. And I think – take the plunge. Say what has to be said if it means that there's that slightest possibility that you'll hear the words that are waiting to be heard. Somewhere on someone's lips. [And you just have to hope that they are his lips that you will be looking at as he speaks the I love you and he knows that you're waiting for him to kiss you, and he teases you, hesitates just a second longer than you expect… before…] Being alone is a tiresome feeling. And it is tiring to think of the people that you want to be with but you can never be sure of their feelings. Not unless you risk everything. I don’t want my limbs snapped in half. But what good are they now if they have no one to hold anyway? We are the backbone of the broken hearted we always come back for more. If we came together, collided cosmically, do you think you would break my heart or I, yours? I don’t want to be left thinking I should have said something. I could have done something. I am tired. "Why do they say the heart is the seat of emotions? Aristotle thought it was the liver. But to me – it is that place between the lungs, below the heart, embedded in the blood that flows but not trapped within the confines of a beating heart. No. It's in the cavity. And rightly so. Because emptiness only seems fitting to be the home for these barren feelings. " feeling this yo. how true it wasn't suppose to turnout this way. adorable, thanks.=D and ash and jochan and johnny. gina- " 1min sad = lose 60 secs of happiness think about it lav. :)" i know. no worries. I'm sick of it. all. and i feel bad. i didnt want it to turn out this way too. I am sorry.