‘I can’t fix your broken heart’

“I can’t fix your broken heart…” he said, as he ungripped himself from my embrace. Shifting his arm from beneath mine and unlocking his legs entangled in my own, he got up from the bed. As I lay there, clutching the sheets closer to fill up the void he left behind. It was not his fault, I knew. Nobody could fix my broken heart, and he was not the one that broke it in the first place; but I had broken his, years ago.

So maybe the pain I felt now, as I lay huddled in the blankets, pretending to be sleeping, was what I deserved for the mistakes I made in the past. The feeling of being abandoned at the bottom of a deep well, wet and cold all around and the walls so close on every side…You look up and the light is only a small disc in the distance, fading in the dusk. Holding in my tears, allowing the light to completely disappear. Was what I wanted just a stolen moment to feel that deep sense of comfort in the arms of someone familiar, in the wake of the rejection I had faced only a few days ago? Or was it that I was feeling regret in ever letting go in the first place, and I wanted reassurance of the idea that I still exist for you too?

Maybe it was a little bit of both. It was strange business, to be close friends with your ex. Whose newfound happiness in finding himself a new person, who excites him, makes him smile and feel good about life with; makes you so bitter and cynical. I was feeling raw, exposed, vulnerable already. Sore hearted, heavy hearted, after knowing that someone I cared for, did not have the capacity to care for me in the same way. I found myself asking him personal questions, inquisitive, to mask my own sorrow.

“I have never felt happier in my life, with anybody else” he said.

The only words that rung in my ears that night, through a haze of drunkenness, we had talked, argued and I had flung my emotions out, yet they had not dried. Am I resentful that you are happy? Happier than you had been with me? Or was I offended that you had not considered my feelings when you raucously exclaimed of your current exuberant state of existence?… Either way, the words stayed with me, along with a sharp clinging painful fishhook in my heart, a memory of how it felt to lie with you, to feel that closeness again for a moment in time. Just a reminder, that I needed something, or someone, I did not know. Was it your embrace that I crave, or just the idea of your comfort? Am I bitter because I am jealous? Or is it because I do not know whether I could be happy?

I fall in love with people whom I know will not return it, ever indulging the cycle of heartbreak, like a necessary drug. And having pushed you away years before, the only one who deserved the love I should have given, I lie in a pool of self pity and stew in regret, wondering whether it was always a mistake to have let you go…

I hover like a dark cloud.

 

The Fear of Love

There is a fear; a dark, cold, haunting shadow of a being that walks one step behind your every move. It hovers over your shoulder, ever present. It hides, just out of sight, yet always there lurking behind you, waiting for a moment to make its presence known. So that it can come creeping up close to you, with its ice cold, clammy fingers reaching up around your neck, whispering things into your ear. Things that make your throat close up, your heart feel heavy in your chest, your lungs fill up with harsh cold air, and you can feel your heart struggling to beat suspended in a chasm that is your breast.

Once this Fear takes hold of you, it merges itself onto your body. It thrives off of your loneliness and feeds irrational thoughts into your brain. The fear of being unworthy, of loss and heartbreak, of isolation and most of the fear of pain.

For years you’ve cowered away from letting anyone get close to you, because of your fear of the pain from your past. Despite so desperately wanting to love, and be loved in return, are you really able to allow yourself to open up to another person and accept their love as an entirety? Are you capable of letting go of the shadow of doubt and dismay of your past, and be able to count experiences with new and different people as wholly new, with no connection to the pain that you have felt before. Or will that fear, of what happened before may happen again stop you from ever making yourself vulnerable? That the past will repeat itself, scare you away from having any sort of functional relationship in the future?

The fear of betrayal, an oozing scar that never fully heals, of never being good enough for the person who you craved affection from, of ideas that were fed into your mind that you were intolerable, unattractive, loud and ungraceful; made you believe that everyone saw you in this way, even you yourself was convinced of it. Since then you never truly believed when anyone said you were beautiful or enjoyable. Fear infects your subconscious, to thinking its all a lie. You distress through it, pushing these people away, because you feel like you are not deserving of the love and affections of such a person, and conceiving that if you do make yourself vulnerable, they would just stab you in the heart with a jagged shard of your broken trust, and leave you lying in a pool deception. You are constantly unsatisfied, steadily disconnected and wholly empty of the happiness that you dream of. Yet constantly paranoid of caring for anyone, lest they are all mask wearing actors, on the stage that is the tragedy of your life.

Then you tell yourself that maybe it is easier to not love, to only feel anything two inches deep; because people will always disappoint you, eventually they will all hurt you in some way. Is it easier then to not care about anybody else at all? To go on living while barely feeling anything for anyone, is it safer to lock up your heart in a metal box and hide away the key? To make sure that you will never feel pain again, yet you will also never feel love… Why is it so difficult to love, again?

Monsters in our Minds

Why do we hold on to pain? Of memories and instances that torture your mind, and sometimes body. Of instances that happened years ago, lurking in the outer, the peripheral darkness, of your mind. The light does not shine on these corners, the thoughts and memories that live in the light are the ones we use in our everyday life, the good ones, the happy ones, the ones that make us feel better about ourselves, and wholesome about who we are… The other ones, the forgotten ones, the ones who we wish never existed, the ones that brought us hurt and humiliation; the ugly, disfigured, vile beings that were once formed out of these experiences, still survive in the darkness.

These horrible creatures used to live in the light at one point in the past, they took over your existence and crushed your waking life. They tightened their grip on your throat, so that you suffocated and gasped for breath with every moment through your day. Heartbreak, betrayal, persecution, desperation, jealousy, shame, insignificance and loss are a few of their names. In these times they dominated the room of your mind, crippling you of your ability to think and feel rationally. But ‘time’, the faithful and steady healing water of our existence, helps them fade away; growing ever smaller into the recesses of the room.

Yet they never truly leave the room, they hide in its depths, away from your consciousness, so that your daily life may continue without the slightest hindrance or disruption. Until, one day, be it weeks, months or years later, you face a circumstance, or something someone said, indirectly or in passing unaware of what it triggered in you. A grenade that was thrown into the room in your mind, grabbed onto by the very monster it represented and exploded in its hand, bursting and spewing out of its seams a whole mess of emotions you thought you had buried and left behind. The monster rears its ugly head and laughs, rejoicing at this moment of triumph at its short but impactful reawakening. It thrives, knowing that it can cause as much damage as it possibly can while it is in the light.

And you crumble. Your reality loosens at its edges, and spills over, in viscous blobs of self pity and doubt. And for a while you wonder whether you really are sane after all, of why after all this time, this monster still affects me this way? Can these lurking monsters ever be killed? Or are we doomed to hold onto them forever, hoping that they do not resurface again, and never knowing if and when they ever will. How do you deal with the monsters that inhabit our selves, they are our demons, the ones who weigh us down and yet we cannot unburden our shoulders of their presence. The ones that cause cracks in your self, your identity and make us question our own personality and feelings. Why am I the way I am? Is the only way to move on, to figure out a way to learn and live with our demons, and accept the fact that you will carry your pain along with you always, hiding just beneath the surface…?