it hurt when I stumbled across her.
she was like broken glass all along the floor.
but it was beautiful and my curiosity got the best of me.
I remember looking at her and all I could see was pain.
she had this insane look of desperation; you could almost feel it.
and yet her eyes were still hollow; like the life had been sucked out of her.
I wanted to pick up her pieces.
I wanted to put her back together.
and so I tried. I really did.
I got a little cut along the way.
the more I tried to fix her the more fragile I became myself but I didn’t care.
I wanted to see her happy.
every time I made her laugh I thought about how I wanted to make her laugh forever.
she was getting better.
eventually she was put together enough to get up and walk away.
but she didn’t take me with her.
and I’ve been stuck sitting here where I first found her.
wondering if the pieces left on the floor are hers or mine.
I should probably get the fuck up.
this actually hurt to read.
One day, whether you are 14, 28 or 65 you will stumble upon someone who will start a fire in you that cannot die. However, the saddest, most awful truth you will ever come to find––is they are not always with whom we spend our lives.
Beau Taplin, “The Awful Truth”
I find myself thinking about things that shouldn’t matter anymore.
People who say sadness doesn’t hurt physically apparently never experienced feeling so sad. I’ve felt it in my legs, my jaw, my head, my quivering lips, aching eyes, and my aching chest. It hurts my chest the most because it literally feels like your heart is in pain.