But you can't say that your heart is broken because in reality, you'd be dead if your heart was broken.
When I was a kid, I was told to stay away from falling in love with boys because boys hide a sword in the back of their pocket from the day of their birth. They keep that sword until the day they draw and decide to aim it towards someone's heart, pressing so deep, that the blood on their hands becomes part of them. And it remains just a chapter in a book left on a shelf, just a freckle on someone's body, just another story of how the hell it got there.
Well when I was eight, my friend and I were playing on my swing set when she said, "That's so gay." And suddenly... I didn't even know what she just said. "What does gay mean?" I asked and she honestly laughed and said, "How do you /not/ know what that means?" Pretty safe to say my innocence was polished since then. It wasn't until I was thirteen when I actually had the guts to look up the definition of bisexual, gay, even gender fluid. I was scarred for awhile. Little did I know I fell in love with my own computer. I'd bring it around in the back of my pocket and pull it out just to talk to her. She was nearly the best thing that has ever happened to me. But no one told me that when you're finished the book, it gets returned to the library. I suppose I got lost in that aspect. In a natural response I clung so tight to her, my knuckles where blistering white to the bone. Until she ripped me off of her in the dead of the night and said, "Just stop. Leave me alone. Don't talk to me again." The words to this day become vaguer and foggy in my mind and I can't comprehend the event like it was yesterday anymore.
And as a result, I guess I was a little sad, you know? And when everyone asked me how I was doing, I had no reason to lie. My mom would wonder why I was wearing the same purple jacket in the days of spring and I shrugged and say I was just too cold, I'd take it off and a museum of art would be imprinted all over my body. Constellations drawn from every angle, every open wound the thoughts feed on my blood and have a new reason to tear me apart, day after wretched day.
It wasn't until April I was sitting in my room when my older sister came in and sat on my bed and asked me how I was doing. And I don't mean the way friends ask how they are, I mean in a true, hopeful way that made me want to tell her everything. And so I did. From day one I fell in love with a girl, and maybe I was a little confused, maybe I was just a little lost, maybe I just wanted to be loved.
