Saturday, November 26, 2011


I'm use to the sound of things crashing.

Things break all the time in my house because I have a cat and dogs. It's inevitable.

But when my heart breaks it feels like the first time every single time. As if I could forget this exquisite, bittersweet agony.

You know what I mean. The painful moment when time seems to stop the instant you get smacked by the betrayal and lies. The reality you thought you knew so well was nothing but an illusion.

And once the truth is out, the person that breaks your heart walks out and moves on with their life. Me? I get to be lucky one that has to clean up the mess.

I hate messes.

Unlike things that can be repaired or replaced, the heart always has that little scar. Some friendships and loves are lost forever. Other times the heartbreaker returns to try and rebuild but it's never quite the same.

Broken doesn't mean despair. IT doesn't have to mean the end of everything. It means it's time to clean up. Time to move on. Time to see where the next adventure will lead me. And truthfully, I can say I'm stronger from this.
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