Geode

What else can you do once you've given all you have to give? A broken heart is not symbolic, or rhetoric or metaphorical as anyone who has truly been broken hearted can attest. It's a deep, physical and emotional pain. Pain that inspires the saddest and happiest of times to pendulum thoughts from joy to fury. Tears run to the lips and power the muffled screams of frustration and loss into a tear soaked pillow. A smile makes room for quivering sobs and boats of distraught breathlessness. The ache, the actually void in your chest tightens and tugs and convinces you that you will die, that you deserve to die because the most important person to you in the world is gone, and you will never be the same.

That which I gave is gone. She took it, along with the joy of my soul. My heart has been torn from my body and discarded and I knew it could happen yet she had so much potential to offer, under all her fear and pain and anger that i thought I was strong and good enough to strip from her like a tattered shawl. A shawl? No. A plate of iron, encasing her physical and metaphysical body, attached to every nerve ending and tendon. Permanent save for the devastatingly painful removal that if done right, slowly, would not hurt as much but would hurt for much longer. To look into her eyes and see the dim fire of her spirit ferociously attacked by the demons of the hurt and ruin she lived through cracked my solidity and poured my own into her. All of it and it was fighting a good fight, making steps as one piece of heavy armor clanged to the ground with such conviction and weight it simply settled onto the earth rather than bang and spring around till gravity calmed it's freedom. These plates fell harder than gravities stern will, and fell in the smallest bits.

And so soon did I love her. So soon and so completely and relentlessly did I love her. She was good, but so hurt it hurt me, and she hurt me. I knew with all my heart that if I showed her what she meant to me and the earnesty of me wanting to help her that she'd allow herself to feel and show and embrace the love I felt from her towards me. When the walls came down the passion and love was almost overwhelming. Sadness is in reality, and those rare moments were unbroken geodes. The beauty of what could be with a little effort was so close, and so fucking apparent and real in in our hands but it never broke past what could be.

There will be a part two because I have so much to say but my heart can't take reliving it enough to finish right now.

Shitty entry #1

A sad day begins when the alarm chirps in your ear without giving you so much as a startle before you swing your legs over the side of your bed, in a dark room, and cry into your sleepy eyes onto your shaking hands. The day starts without hope on a bed worn to a slope because the only person who lays in it for more than an occasional night is myself, and the edge i lay on is the same edge I wake from every night.

Digging for change to afford a cup of coffee and most of the time not being able to. Brushing my teeth with an electronic toothbrush that no longer works because i can't afford the two batteries it needs to spin. Putting one leg at a time through jeans as old as the job I wear them for, catching my toes on the holes and flinching at the prospect of making them larger; winter is coming. Placing a meager lunch of baked chicken and an apple into a King Soopers bag I reuse till it tears apart, and reaching for the keys to a car that at any second could fall apart while I'm driving and maybe hurt me or someone else.

8 hours pass as they do, sometimes fast sometimes slow. Always sadly and always by the end of the day having succeeded in sucking me dry of every ounce of ambition and hope I have.

A drive home with a mind so given in to the concept of unhappiness the hour in traffic isn't remotely bothersome because it delays the moment I open my door. My door to an empty house that reflects my fuckitall attitude.

I've turned sour. I don't have a skip in my step. I don't have goals anymore. I don't care. The terrible reason behind this is so stupid, but I have been hurt by every single woman I have ever dated. Every fucking one of them.

I used to want to kids. Not anymore. I used to want to get married. Not anymore. I used to want a lot of things. Not so much anymore.

I'm over it. I'm pissed off and hurt and I don't even want to write. I thought it would help but all its doing is hurting more.