PART ONE
It hurt. It hurt so much. And there was nothing I could do about it.
My hand went to my heart. Funny that. Why do people do that? Why is it that the first thing that you do when you’re hurting inside is to hold your heart? It’s as if your heart is about to crumble into a million pieces and your reflex action is to hold onto your heart before it does. To hold it upright before it can fall apart. The need to make sure that there is still the hope that you can put the pieces back together again. Like the pieces of a broken cup, temporarily stuck together with glue, but never really whole again. It’s as though it’s your body’s way of protecting itself. An in-built self-defence mechanism that you’re completely unaware of.
But your body needs to release its hurt somehow, and I guess that comes in the form of the endless trickling of tears down your face and those heart-wrenching sobs. If you’re not letting your body release itself in one way, it finds itself another means to do so. It needs that balance. That equilibrium of emotion.
Huh, funny that.
PART TWO
Does anyone know what sound a heart makes when it’s breaking?
The answer: none at all.
You would think that it would be like the sound of a thousand mirrors smashing into millions of pieces, or like the demolition of an entire city built on stilts, or even like the smashing of metal like Formula 1 race-cars on a track crashing into each other one after the other. Like the result of that crash, a fire breaks out until a huge explosion occurs and all that is left is burnt black metal and the falling pieces of ash that float softly down onto the ground.
Like that, the heart is left still and black. Crumbled and damaged. Broken and unfixable. The remains of something that can never go back to its former state. Thus, left deserted.
The consequences of crushed hope and unfulfilled love.
No comments:
Post a Comment