Love Takes Hostages

This isn't my usual kind of post and maybe I feel a little guilty for spewing out the heartache on my blog. But if I can't do it on my blog, where else can I? I know this isn't how I really truly feel overall, but right now I do. You don't have to read this. You can go back to playing with your adorable baby and talking to your sweet husband. Sorry, that sounded bitter. Please, you don't have to read this. But I need to write it.

 

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up a whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life... You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' or 'how very perceptive' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. Nothing should be able to do that. Especially not love. I hate love. "- Neil Gaiman "The Sandman"

 

I remember getting up one day realizing it didn't hurt the same. Like my heart finished rearranging the pieces to fill in the hole and my lungs patching up the punctures so I could breathe again. Reminiscing isn't as painful as reliving. The way his smile made my heart flutter and how his eyes connected to my soul. The way he listened to me like every word was the most important he'd ever heard. Funny how you're so different yet you did the same things to my heart. His eyes were brown and yours are blue, and with him the pain was immediate. Shattering. With you, only numbness. Like my heart was ready for it, prepared for the inevitable, protected by the scar tissue of careless men before you. After round one, I thought I was coming back stronger, ready for another shot. But the numb ache tells me I lied to myself. Maybe I never got over him. And perhaps I still had my walls up so when it all fell apart the only one I could be angry with was me. I want to say I put it all out there- my whole heart on the line. So if it's broken then it's my fault. I put the expectations out there, investing myself before you knew what hit you. They say you remember the pain from the first time, but that the damage is worse the second time broken. And it's true. Now I just feel empty. Numb. Not caring if it ever heals so I won't get the stupid idea to try again.