Broken

That is what I am now. I understand the hole in my chest I’m feeling now. I’ve been knocked down so many times, had my heart broken so many times, it’s now shattered, too many tiny pieces to try to put it back together again, I can’t get back up again. With each piece that was left I tried to get back up, use what was left to make it whole again, like a lizard regrows a tail, until finally, every last part is broken, gone and there is nothing left to regrow. That is the hole. It’s not a specific person or heartbreak, it’s the sum of all of them, even the little disappointments, chipping away, what I thought was mending was only going to take another sliver. I just don’t have the strength to get back up again.

This doesn’t come from recent heartbreak, it’s not from Brown, I never loved him, I barely liked him, he was though, another disappointment, the last little speck of my heart that was left, was spent trying to like him, to regrow the heart I had once upon a time. I expressed my pain to all men in my letter to him, the one I never sent and posted on here. He was however never worthy of my love, not that I had any left to give. I gave my last bit of love, my heart, to Mr. NY, and although I believe he did love me in return, he ruined that piece I gave to him, crushed it with lies and manipulation. I told him goodbye, he left the country, and those fences are not ones that can be mended. What’s done is done and I don’t regret saying what I said.

Yes, I burn, yearn, ache for true love. I fear, I know, if it finds me, I’m too broken that I’ll have nothing left to give. That part of me is missing, and I can’t share that anywhere but here. So I’ve come to a conclusion that I have to move. There is nothing left for me here, moving here in the first place was a mistake. It’s contributed to crushing what little spirit I had left in me, and all the love I had left was also lost here. I can’t look at this place anymore, I hope that if I can get far far away, some shred of who I am can be found and rebuilt. This is something I know I need to do, I need to do it alone, and maybe if I can’t rebuild who I was, I can start from scratch and build a new me, but I can’t do it here.

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love.” — Washington Irving