Tuesday, August 25, 2015


“Only love can break a heart,
only love can mend it again.”
Gene Pitney

I don't wish heartbreak on my worst enemy. It's the great subversion that creeps through your veins like molasses. It turns every positive into a negative like mathematical proof. Happy moments have a posthumous birth. Music creates an instant lump in your throat making it more difficult to swallow your tears. You have a remote sense of confidence, but it's still out of your reach. You question every moment, what could you have done differently- knowing it wouldn't matter. Every time you smile, you feel your face crack a little bit more. Replacements don't function and still add fuel to the fire. Although lately I find myself asking, “what fire?” I've been doused with shame and regret. There’s no more fire left. I try to immerse myself in my work, but a sizeable chunk of my brain won’t turn off the love switch directly connected to my heart, which keep short-circuiting.
My friends tell me to move on. Move on to what? I only have eyes for him. My shrink thinks I’ll be fine. Fine with a cocktail of anti-sad pills. I want to be light & free but there’s an albatross around my neck chocking me and weighing me down. I can’t express myself clearly, no one can hear me, no one understands. It feels like I’m drowning & heartbreak is the current sweeping me away. I want to be standing warm, on the shore again. 
Have you ever tried to navigate through a haunted house and just wait for that little spec of light at the end of all the horrifying ghosts and monsters and petrifying scenes?
It takes time. It takes patience. I hate both of those facts.

I also hate haunted houses.  And I hate my broken heart.