It has come to cross my mind, as I have crossed paths with the very many broken people in this world. Broken by love. It's like a parade, never ending as one passes by and then another. Sometimes I wonder if there is a point to all this. Is there a reason. Why am I meeting all these broken people whose lives have been torn asunder by this one sweet but bile-choked thing called love. Is there a reason? We've all hurt and we will all hurt. But why am I exclusively meeting those who have never recovered from the scars of this thing called love? We're all broken people here. They're all broken people here. So it has crossed my mind. A broken heart is a difficult thing to get over, especially for certain types of people. And for some strange reason, these are the people I keep on meeting. One by one, one after another. An endless parade. It has come to the point that I wonder if everyone in this country is broken in some way by this cursed thing called love. There does seem to be an uncannily large number of them. In my world at least. Why do I attract these fools? Am I supposed to be learning some hidden, deep intrinsic message from this? It is all too obscure.
So it has come to cross my mind. These broken people were broken by someone. That one person who meant so much and then chose to leave and shattered their world forever. That one person that meant so much. I have never meant so much to any one person in my life. No one has ever loved me so in fact I have never chosen to leave. I was always the one unfortunately, discarded. Discarded like so much old tissue paper and never thought of again. In fact, the one love of my life, the one who shattered me, had the audacity to turn around and regret everything we had together. Life would've been perfect if I was the best friend, and someone else had been his special someone. It never occurred to me how much this hurt or should hurt but maybe I have just been repressing it all. At the end I meant nothing at all again. Back at square one.
Am I angry? Am I bitter? Yes. I am all those things. The one love of my life, the one who shattered me and in the end I meant nothing to him. Would he ever the affected by me as I have been affected by him? No. This world is a cruel and harsh place. This world of love is a cruel and a harsh place. There was a time when I was much younger, I would have embraced love with open arms. But now I would give anything to have ice chips for a heart. The last remnants of my humanity causes me pain on a daily basis. It's like blows, a boxer weathering a volley of blows. That's where I stand, hunkered down and avoiding volleys of blows after blows. Every day or every week of every month. Everything that reminds me of it hurts me. Bit by bit. Everything that makes me think of it even in the most unrelated way brings me pain. I am incapable of love. But it does seem that I am capable of hurt. So why am I enduring emotional purgatory for an emotional paradise that I am unable to experience? What seems to be the purpose. Even any fool would tell you that it is a foolish cause. I need to stop kidding myself. Someday. Someday I will be able to do it. Someday I will be able to give up so completely that nothing will be able to shift this lump of coal within my chest. And until I find that peace, I wait with bated breath.
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