An Open Letter To All The Girls With Bleeding Hearts Out There

Abdul Rahman
Abdul Rahman

Dear Lost Souls,

Currently sprawled out on my back, gazing at the billion stars a gazillion miles away from me, and the only question I find myself hanging onto is, “Are you just as lost as I am?”

Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we let others belittle our abilities as strong-hearted people, capable of moving the earth with our emotions, painting the skies with our love? Why do we provide those that care so little about us with the heavy set weights that allow them to outweigh us in any scenario? Why do we grant them the leverage they seem to have with our hearts, when we ignore those who would never think of toying with our precious innards? We need to make a stand for ourselves, we need to fight our own demons, we must start to believe in ourselves once more and never give in. We must gauge our own self-worth once more and realize that we, albeit being the bleeding hearts, are an unstoppable force.

I, once more, gave my silly unyielding heart away to some faceless stranger who did not deserve even the utterance of my name from his lips. Oh, but such sweet sin he was. He cares for me naught, but that’s what makes this whole scenario so much sweeter, isn’t it? The fact that no matter if I spin threads of precious gold from dried up hay or part the great sea myself, I would still never be good enough to bring that sparkle to his eye. I would still never be the woman that induces an arrhythmic contraction of his heart, makes him gasp for oxygen like an drowning animal thrashes about trying to resurface. When will I learn that I will never be the woman that makes his reality explode and his universe come crashing down like hellfire around him, marking me as new epicenter of his universe that he now revolves around?

When will I stop trying so hard to birth a connection that only a raw chemical attraction can provide in our non-relationship-relationship? That sexual energy is the only transparent aspect that seems to hold any part of this “unraveling by the second” futile relationship together, and that too is slowly fading away. I feel like I bend metal most of the time, making excuses for his continual disappointments, his shortcomings. I’ve finally run out of excuses that leave me in a state of forlorn misery, a place that I never thought I would once again visit. As I view myself through this mirror of mine that pieces together memories of a puzzle long forgotten, I notice how broken my life looks.

The look on my face says it all, questioning when exactly life threw me in this wormhole and when I caved to my own insecurities. When did I become this dependent woman, one that relies on the approving glances of men to know just how special she is? One that needs to always be “involved” to feel good enough to walk down Social Ave. with her head held high, as though my life is neatly wrapped up, with a cute little bow.

We couldn’t be a better liars, we’ve had ourselves fooled for years now. What we need, is to cleanse. Cleanse ourselves of the negatives in our lives, start again once more. We need to soul-search for our poor lost souls, floating around somewhere, lost and confused.

The woman inside me is clawing to resurface, aching to feel the thrill of confidence surge through me like an electric shock, radiating through my body and into my bones. When did I start questioning my own abilities? Was it before I started down this path of a “relationship” or did I end up on that path because I lost my sense of self-worth?

All these questions buzz through my head as I lay here, broken, feeling desperate and miserable to be whole again. Are you just as lost as I am?

Finally picking myself up off the dewy grass, I take one last look up at the heavens. The sky seems to be swelling with unanswered questions swirling around amongst the sparkling starry night lights, and suddenly, everything became more clear. As I walk toward my home, I let go of the broken pieces of my heart and soul, let them float toward the swelling sky and walk on as a recovering woman, gaining something from all the heartache, insight. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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