Wednesday, May 2, 2012
The Day We Stopped Dying
The question is not
"How many times can your heart be broken?"
The question is
"How many times can it heal?"
Written by Me at 12:53 AM
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I need you to understand something. I wrote this for you. I wrote this for you and only you. Everyone else who reads it, doesn’t get it. They may think they get it, but they don’t. This is the sign you’ve been looking for. You were meant to read these words.
it's not about how many times the heart claims love, it's about how much it can withstand without love in return.
i can understand that it's not me you love, i just can't seem to figure out why.
Where was this picture taken? I love the symmetry.
Because most times when you survive something, not all of you survives.
And sometimes all the parts of you that got sacrificed accumulate, and together they create a kind of death of their own.
Love all your posts! Poetic and Beautiful!
For you, I would put my heart back together and keep trying.
So don't worry if you break it...
I love it when the question is turned around to reveal its deeper meaning. Thank you for your beautiful posts.
if we had no knowledge of healed hearts maybe we'd take better care of them.
It's not about times, it's about reasons and I healed so you would take me, I healed so you could break me.
I stopped dying just to live next to you.
It heals all the same, but slower. The scars run deeper. There will be a stereotypical crack through the center, so you'll be very careful walking, breathing, trusting, and loving. You'll imagine this crack to exist forever, and guard it very carefully from prying eyes and prying love for a very long time.
I won't promise the pain will go away forever, but it will fade into dull aches of vague memories, fleeting pangs of loss. You will get through them. The wounds scar over. The crack disappears. And one of the greatest mistakes any human makes is to spend their lives hiding from love because of fear of further injury to the heart. Be careful. But more importantly, be careful not to be careful too long.
Don't harden; don't give up.
After so many years of looking, hoping, waiting for the right one, I've seen my heart break, then heal, and walk away unscathed and break again.
But I'm so tired of the pain. I just want the up down to stop. I want plain sailing. I want the stillness that comes from the certainty that you're the one. I wish you would read these words and come find me. I wish. I don't mean to be lazy but I'm exhausted from the journey. I just want it to be over. I feel like I'm lost at sea but there's no bush tucker manual for me, there's no worst case scenario guide for me. I don't live in Australia but I know what to do if I'm lost there but I don't know what to do if I can't find love.
because im hoping one day it will hurt less but it never seems to, it just hurts more.
Despite the fact that I've checked your website almost every single day for over the last two years, this is my first time posting a comment. Your blog is by far my favorite. Your words haunt me, captivate me, make me gasp for breath, cry, laugh, and realize I am not alone. I've never felt so instantaneously moved and connected to someone, something I have no physical grasp or connect with. I always read your words first, and as they form into coherence in my mind, I stare at the picture taken by Jon. Always, at the same time, my interpretation and the force and beauty of the picture hits me.
I thought, what could I say to these two men who have been a part of my everyday for the last two years? These men I consider kindred spirits through their artistic interpretation of the world?
I'm not sure why I'm commenting on this post. I guess it's because, I wrote something for you. I wrote something for you over a year ago, when I was a much different person. I wrote this for you because I need you to know the heart will always heal. And I need you to know that I love you. I love all of you.
I wrote this for you when I never thought that was possible again. A year later, and I have found the love of my life. A year later, I still have you. I desire in the very least, to affect you, even just for a moment, the way you have affected me, and my life. So here it is:
I should add a zipper to my heart and fill it with my physical love notes. Recklessly shove my heart at whoever tries to come inside. I’ll let greedy hands blindly choose the remains of what used to be genuine love. I should add a zipper to my heart and unzip it slowly so you shiver with anticipation at what’s beneath. Each moment another centimeter of what you clearly want. I should add a zipper to my heart so you can undress my layers much more productively than buttons, and clasps. (Hassle free!) I should add a zipper to my heart that way next time instead of dropping it to make it shatter you can just unzip it and let the contents of my soul pour out wherever, and whenever you please. Then I can zip it back up when you are done and try to salvage what’s left-if any this time. The only problem is when it catches a snag, and rips at the seam. I finally brought myself to patch up the tear through your name that you tattooed with love in large deep letters where it will stay forever. The things printed on your heart never lose meaning and never fade. I always blamed you for not leaving room for anyone else’s name, until I recognized my handwriting. I saw forever in the glare of your eyes ( I don’t know that I will ever forget the soft endless spheres that puddle so tempting, not unlike being mesmerized by a crystal ball.) as I let the ink of your promises seep in. The future unfolded so nicely there, but I guess it was not my own. It’s not even you I miss the most. Just the way you let me see myself. Maybe that’s the test I failed. You held my hand halfway out on the tightrope, and let me see everything below safely. When you let go I panicked and slipped. I lost sight of what I once was able to see so clearly without fear. I need a hand. Mine is cut and gashed from my previous glass heart that once was hung up on your wall. The pieces stick out awkwardly making touching anyone else a razor sharp pain. A constant reminder of what happens when I trust others with my heart. It once stopped beating long enough to be the center piece of every room you entered. Bored with its presence you carelessly walked by, knocking it over. It wobbled, and teetered until it shattered on the ground in an infinite amount of pieces. Putting it back together has been a project. An almost impossible puzzle, barely unlike the one we always thought we were. I’ve almost given up, time after time. I managed to construct a cracked misshapen heart out of the leftovers, and only now do I realize what I did wrong. Hearts are not hollow. They are filled with the genuine beauty of the everyday, and feelings that give us each life as we wake fresh every morning. It’s filled with yesterdays smile, and tomorrows gasp for breath (the one you never remember to expect.) And when it broke those all leaked out and left. Products of rejection never return without caution. My makeshift heart is empty and I don’t dare lift it off the ground. The glue is still wet, but I won’t let it lay unguarded over night to dry. I blame you for what you did, but I can’t blame you for my inability to heal. My inability to be put back together correctly. I can’t blame you for the pieces of me you kept, nor ask for the ones I gave. They dressed up the music of your body when you walked away. The silhouette in the sunrise of loss is still beautiful because when it fades, at least it’s a new day. And the heavy rains of what was, feed the seeds of what will be. Words, once written down, always hold their meaning because of the spark from the connection of pen on paper. Not unlike lips on your forehead, or the back of index and middle finger slowly sliding down your cheek. Small innocent moments that happen only between lovers. Physical love notes. I should add a zipper to my heart and fill it with my physical love notes…
More times than I could have ever imagined.
Yes. This hit me big time. Thank you.
"The answer is outside the Deichtorhallen in Hamburg. The sculpture might be by Richard Serra, but I'm not sure."
I used to have and empty heart, then it was fill with love from everyone but when I found you, it was full. Now my heart only has the ability to shrink cause since the day you left, everything in it just went with you.
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