Running on a broken heart.

You wake up one day…A lone, fateful day. And you realize that part of you is missing. A part that you had not intended to give away. Had not planned to lose. Had not planned to wake up without. But it slipped through your fingers. There is a void. An absence of raw, red, beating heart. Like sand, or water, slipping through the cracks, It was not a conscious letting go. And yet, there was no wall keeping you from letting it go. You never thought it would drift away. Your anchor, once firmly planted has bounced along the ocean floor, taking you further and further from the shore that you once called safety. 

The brokenness of heart is not always a negative thing. It is often the most beautiful of moments. To understand what it is to have an open heart. You can’t break what you never take out of the bubble wrap. I suppose that life is about a broken heart. Letting people in. Trusting the world to do well by you. And yet, knowing that life is comprised of pain and joy. Happiness and deep, deep sadness. Love and life and death and intense beauty. There are no regrets in a life well lived, even in the darkest, saddest moments. I am a feeler. So life kicks me in the face more often than not. There are the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Temperature, sunshine or lack thereof, tastes, emotions, they touch me in a way that many people don’t get to experience. It is a beautiful and difficult balance. And I wouldn’t trade it. Because I would rather know love and lose it than not have it at all. I would rather have an ultimate joy, only to lose it than to not have any intense joy at all. 

 

I’m a feeler and this is the end of my emo ramblings.

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