Sep 2015
Breaking a heart is like tearing a piece of your heart away. You think you're okay with the decision. You think you're breaking someone's heart to save them, but in reality you're just shattering your own while cracking someone else's.
You rip your heart out of your chest, you **** on any notion of love you ever had. You go through stages of relief but lying under that is this darkness waiting to consume the rest of you. It's the lurking shadow that no light can fix. You try everything to get over what you did but it always comes back full force after you try to suppress it. It comes back worse and worse but you're trying to fight it, but you can't, and hiding it is impossible.
Each part of your shattered heart becomes a diamond in your blood stream: shining and solid and cutting through your veins, with a cold chill demanding your pain. With every thought and feeling, it needs to be seen, it needs to be heard, it needs to be the show but you hide it because it's not what you want to feel or see.
And so
Maybe my heart isn't shattered it's just covered in darkness, becoming cold and trying to adapt. Trying to learn to maneuver, adapting, it's not pure anymore it's a killer contemplating suicide; it's lost begging to be found but wanting to be hidden from the world, it begs to be known but it never wants to exist again.
You rip your heart out of your chest, you **** on any notion of love you ever had. You go through stages of relief but lying under that is this darkness waiting to consume the rest of you. It's the lurking shadow that no light can fix. You try everything to get over what you did but it always comes back full force after you try to suppress it. It comes back worse and worse but you're trying to fight it, but you can't, and hiding it is impossible.
Each part of your shattered heart becomes a diamond in your blood stream: shining and solid and cutting through your veins, with a cold chill demanding your pain. With every thought and feeling, it needs to be seen, it needs to be heard, it needs to be the show but you hide it because it's not what you want to feel or see.
And so
Maybe my heart isn't shattered it's just covered in darkness, becoming cold and trying to adapt. Trying to learn to maneuver, adapting, it's not pure anymore it's a killer contemplating suicide; it's lost begging to be found but wanting to be hidden from the world, it begs to be known but it never wants to exist again.
"In Mexico, there are these fish that have colonized the freshwater caves along Sierra del Abra.They were lost.They found themselves living in complete darkness. But they didn’t die. Instead, they thrived. They adapted.They lost their pigmentation, their sight, eventually even their eyes. With survival, they became hideous. I’ve rarely thought about what I once was. But I wonder if a ray of light were to make it into the cave, would I be able to see it? Or feel it? Would I gravitate to its warmth? And if I did, would I become less hideous? " - Raymond Reddington
