Giving up.

Giving up on someone is difficult. Your mind tells you that they aren’t the right person for you and yet your heart is telling you a different story. In the back of your heart shines a glimmer of hope. You can envision the beautiful future that the two of you could possibly have and yet your mind diminishes this dream. Your brain is screaming at you telling you that you’re just wasting your time, that you’ve shed enough tears over this one individual. But your wounded heart only sees the good. Your heart is naive and quietly tells you that all your waiting will pay off. Your heart gets rid of all the negative messages your mind is sending you. Your heart is like a player who tells you all the things you want to hear while your mind is your best friend, telling you what you need to hear. This war between what you want and what is best is a difficult battle. In the end, all you want is to achieve happiness in the easiest possible way. Giving up is the scary road that only the brave can take because they know this is only a facade and that happiness is at the end. Taking the easy lane that shows you the prize you’ve been wishing for, being with this person, shows you false happiness along with hope that isn’t really there. Which road to take, which decision is best. Sometimes the best decision isn’t the easiest decision.

The broken pieces.

These broken pieces around me are scattered on the wooden floor. The pieces are shards of glass cut into all different shapes and sizes. I’m sitting in this mess, hopeless. A boy around my age approaches, his hard stare forces me to look away. His expression changes, he is confused. He cautiously bends down and picks up a shard of glass. He lays it on an empty space on the floor. He looks at my face, his eyes searching for a reaction. I make no movement, I only watch.

For the next two hours, he is picking up the broken pieces. He is creating something with them. A small bit of hope fills my body and soul after each piece is collected. Finally, he stops. He looks at me, and back down at his piece of work. The pieces have become a heart.. But something is missing.

He quietly walks over to me and sits next to me. He moves closer to me and puts his hand on my shoulder. His touch is soft and comforting. I look into his dark brown eyes. In the reflection of those mysterious eyes, is me. I see the tears roll down my face in thy reflection.

I smile. A physical movement so unfamiliar to me. I reach into the pocket of my jacket, and pull something out. The last piece. I hand it to him, carefully.

Before he takes it, he stares deep into my eyes. I sense what he is telling me. He opens his mouth and says softly and slowly,

“I have worked hard to find each piece. I have worked hard to carefully assemble each piece to fit perfectly. Look at my hands, there are cuts on them. Look at yours, there are scars. We both have been hurt in this process. And even now, I am not finished. You have the last piece, and I have worked hard to prove that I will put it where it belongs. I know you are in pain, but I won’t be like the others. I’ve worked hard, and I know your worth. No matter how many cuts this has left me with, you’re worth it.”

He takes the last piece and walks over to the glass heart. He puts it in it’s rightful place, and makes my heart whole.

I look at it once it is finished. There are many cracks. There are many scratches and I realize those scratches will never go away. But I realize that the pieces aren’t in shards anymore, and it was thanks to him. He did more than I could have ever asked.

You’ve left me broken, and yet you’re still with me. But my love for you? It isn’t there anymore. My heart is hollow, and it’s not going to become whole because of you.

Inside, i’m dying. The emptiness of life surrounds me. It suffocates me. and everywhere i look, is darkness. There is no peak of light anywhere. But sometimes, i come across this glimpse of light. But right as i go out to touch it, it disappears, leaving me. it slips between my fingers. But as it falls through my grasp, the taste of bliss touches my senses, pulling me to.. life. yet, it leaves as soon as it had appeared.

My hands touch my face and i feel the curve of my lips. My lips are frozen in the same line, not forming a smile. As hard as i tried, my lips were carved into the same brokenness. I feel the curve of my eyes. They’re empty, all hope and feeling are not present. My eyes are sunken in and my gaze is low.

I slowly open my mouth and attempt to speak. My voice is soft and barely audible. there is a pain in my throat. I choke out my words as my voice raises. I try to shout. “HELP ME.”

No one hears me. The only response I get is the beckoning darkness. I fall to the floor, my hands are covering my face. The tears seep between my hands and down my cheeks. I have collapsed and I cannot find the strength to get up.

The walls raise higher, and suddenly I am in a deep hole of darkness. I try to get out. I claw my way against the walls yet there is nothing to grasp onto. I see the light above me and I try my hardest to reach it. But after many failing attemps, the walls start closing in on me, locking me in the darkness forever.

My hands feebly clutch my phone, and my fingers trace over the familiar, suggested number pad. The number sequence, etched across my mind, calling out to me. I slowly begin to dial those utterly familiar numbers that have never left my mind since the moment I laid my eyes on them, no matter how hard I tried to kid myself. Half way through, will power moves its way into my mind, pushing out any desire I had left. Half way through, my fingers pause, hovering over the keys. Half way through, I stop.

Another tossed away note, which could not convey the thoughts that I had been trying to say. No matter how hard I tried, nothing was good enough, nothing was perfect enough. I was afraid he wouldn’t understand. I was afraid this would be yet another Christmas, where I followed the saying, “things are better left unsaid.” This would not be another year where I tossed another chance away, a chance that held happiness for myself. I gripped the paper and the feel of it tearing between my fingers was felt. Another mistake, another imperfect message. When could I get it right?

Flaws are not what blocks the way to perfection. It is merely an obstacle.

Perfection is ones acceptance of ones flaws.

The rain is hitting the window of the car. I’m going somewhere, but I’m not sure exactly where my destination is, all I know is that I need to get away. With my hands on the steering wheel, my foot on the accelerator, I speed away, down the long road. I don’t have any music on, because my thoughts are filling up the empty space.