It’s been so long since someone has climbed into your heart and examined each and every inch of its bloody, messy, cluttered pieces. It’s been so long that you might have even forgot you have a heart. It’s like somewhere along the ride, you lost it.
You can feel it beating inside of you, but you can’t hear it whisper to you anymore.
This will be one of the scariest things you experience in your life. Go back; trace your misguided steps. Close your eyes and remember the last time your heart spoke to you. You’ll most likely find it was when you found yourself begging for the last time. Down on your knees, as vulnerable as a mouse cornered by a cat.
But you finally realized that this cat only wants you as a mere prize. He will play with you, destroy you, and then leave you on the doorstep for someone else. After this realization, you stood up, inhaled deeply, and on your exhale, your heart whispered, “I’m tired of being this mouse”. And just like that, pushing people out of your corner became a daily routine. Forgetting how to let others in is only a result of you not letting yourself in. You literally let this cat make you believe that solitude is the only possible way you’ll survive.
I don’t necessarily understand why we call it a broken heart; if it’s broken, that leaves more cracks and holes for people to climb through.
We should consider calling it a closed heart. You decided to close it without thinking.
Now look at you, a girl who’s just flowing through life not feeling anything. Don’t be the girl who forgets how to feel. Ironically, being numb is the worst pain there is. Don’t just cover up your wounds and pretend they’re gone; stitch those damn things back together and start to rebuild and heal. Forget the cat, but don’t forget the bravery you had for standing up. Forget the boy, but don’t forget what it’s like to love someone. Forget the façade you put on, but don’t forget what’s underneath. The trouble with forgetting, is deciphering what to forget and what to remember.