Holeheart

A Healing Proccess, Maybe My Own

March 4th, 2021

I am not a liar, so don't call me one. I am not healed, so don't think I'm not miserable, too. Is it possible to be in love and be heartbroken at the same time? Surely that's the only solution to a pain as piercing as this. The only way to fix a ripped heart is to sew it shut. So when he offered me a needle and thread, I had no room to refuse. Yet, my hands shake. My voice shakes. My heart shakes, and it softly whispers, "not yet." I don't know what it means by that, so I inch the needle closer, and it says again, "not yet." My heart continues when I grow silent, "Don't get rid of this pain yet. It defines you. You're not ready to be healed. You're not prepared for the next heartbreak. If you fix me now, I'll break twice as hard next time." At this I can no longer protest. I don't like it's song, but I cannot unhear it. The heart is right, and I am so afraid of being that broken again that I am willing to hide this needle somewhere unsafe. I am willing to toss this thread and not pay attention to where it lands. I am willing to let my heart bleed out in the open if it means it will heal itself faster, harder. If I let my heart repair itself, if I don't force it, it will grow twice as strong. I will be more difficult to love, and loving will be more difficult. But I will be safe. If this is what it means to be heartbroken and in love at the same time, then I'll take it for now. I just want to feel safe when I give him my heart. I'll put my bloody heart on display. His hands can hold it and the sun will warm it. I will heal within time.

R.K.