Jun 2017
I never understood the concept of a broken heart.
I've always questioned why someone would put their life, dreams, and soul into a glass jar and throw it to another person hopeing that the person wouldn't let the jar slip through their finger tips and fall to the cement below. Just the thought of giving myself to another human and hopeing they want to make sure my glass doesn't crack makes me feel woozy. And if the person lets the jar slip from their fingers, if that person doesn't make sure the glass won't crack, you have to deal with your whole world shattering on the **** cement. I've never understood why people do that, until I met him.
He made me believe there was a protective layer around my glass. That even if my glass was thrown across a room as hard as he could throw it, it wouldn't even crack.
So I handed him my jar and he hung it inches above the floor by a string that was fraying in the middle. He swing it back and forth on a knife blade waiting for the string to break. Now, I've never understood the concept of a broken heart, but the day the string finally broke, I felt my whole being shatter on the ground. I felt chunks of myself being broken into little shards and the small pieces went everywhere. I may not understand the concept of a broken heart, but I now know that I never want to.
I've always questioned why someone would put their life, dreams, and soul into a glass jar and throw it to another person hopeing that the person wouldn't let the jar slip through their finger tips and fall to the cement below. Just the thought of giving myself to another human and hopeing they want to make sure my glass doesn't crack makes me feel woozy. And if the person lets the jar slip from their fingers, if that person doesn't make sure the glass won't crack, you have to deal with your whole world shattering on the **** cement. I've never understood why people do that, until I met him.
He made me believe there was a protective layer around my glass. That even if my glass was thrown across a room as hard as he could throw it, it wouldn't even crack.
So I handed him my jar and he hung it inches above the floor by a string that was fraying in the middle. He swing it back and forth on a knife blade waiting for the string to break. Now, I've never understood the concept of a broken heart, but the day the string finally broke, I felt my whole being shatter on the ground. I felt chunks of myself being broken into little shards and the small pieces went everywhere. I may not understand the concept of a broken heart, but I now know that I never want to.
