Tag Archives: heartbreak

Fight Your Instincts

You want some advice? Okay, I’ll give it to you.

Never fall in love.

Despite what the movies tell you, what books tell you, what art and music and all of that other shit tells you, never fall in love.

Do you see me? I’m half of what I used to be. The man that I was is nothing compared to the man who I am today. Love will make you better, they say. Bigger. What they mean is that love inflates you, fills you with the air of false promises and disillusion. And when love goes away, all that air escapes. You don’t shrink back to your pre-love size, no. You become crumpled, stretched out, like a condom that’s been used and carelessly thrown away.

She took half of me, maybe more. Some days, it feels like it was all of me.

The day our love ended, it felt like she plunged her hands into my chest and ripped open my ribcage, like some hack-job autopsy. Ribs broken and shattered, shrapnels of bone splintering my veins. One by one, she took my organs. My liver, my spleen, one of my kidneys. I watched helplessly, waiting for her to pull out my heart and end it all. Moments passed and my eyes – as I could not speak – asked her what she was waiting for.

She smiled and shook her head. I’m not taking your heart, she said.

I want you to remember this.

She sewed me up without a single care about the neatness of her stitches. I looked down at my chest, ruined and permanently scarred. She left me my heart so I could remember this. This pain.

So don’t do it. Fight your instincts pal. Don’t fall in love.

Well, I Never…

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Dear You,

My oh my, look at how far we’ve come. Remember the days where we used to be in college, no going to class and finding any reason to lay up in bed, lay up with each other? Occasional trips to the dining hall to grab nourishment and make use of those meal plans, only to wind up back in bed, back with each other. My, how those days seemed to go on and on and on, a big blur until it all stopped.

When I met you, I realized love was real. That love was not just some abstract, intangible thing that I’ve read so many books and poems about. You were love to me, that abstract suddenly embodied in a physical specimen that I could only recall as perfect. Perfect and mine. Yea, love was real man. You made me see that.

And just as you opened my eyes, I realized that they were too open. Love made me vulnerable and you took advantage and where was I to go and who was I to find comfort in when the person I loved, who loved me, would hurt me? When you lied, when you cheated, when you forsake every promise that you had made to be you. You became someone else. You were not you. And it was too late for to me see, that I was no longer me. Love had done me wrong. You had done me wrong.

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