Sitting Here…

…Alone.

cracked heart

And I’m sad.

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

All of a sudden, it was hard to breathe.  Hard to fight back the tears.

I’m lonely.  I’m sad.  I feel so helpless and so sad.

I feel like I’m never gonna be enough.  For anyone.

I’m not pretty enough.  Not thin enough.  Don’t make enough money.

I’m clingy.  I’m emotional.  I’m to much.

I want to be loved.  I want someone to want me.  I want to know that I’m on someone’s mind.

I want to be hugged.  Kissed.  Held.  Told I’m beautiful.

I want to laugh.  Love.  Be.

I need to be wanted.  I need to be needed.

I’m so tired of my heart being sad.  I’m tired of my heart being in a million different pieces.  I’m tired of loving and loving and loving.

I feel incapable of loving completely, yet I don’t feel complete unless I’m loving.  How fucked up is that?

I’m not sure my heart will ever be whole.  Every man that has hurt me, physically or emotionally, over the last 25 years, has taken a piece of it, or broken a piece off.  I know they say “time heals all wounds”, but does it?

When I was 15, I lost my virginity.  It was an older boy and it just kinda happened. Later that night, I was crying and on the phone with him.  His response to my tears, was “I don’t know why you are crying, it isn’t like you are the only girl at school who has lost her virginity.”  One piece of my heart, crushed.

When I was 18 and pregnant, my daughter’s father became physically abusive.  He went from name calling, to pushing and shoving and shaking.  He told me that I didn’t deserve to get married, because I wasn’t good enough.  I left him at 19 and became a single mom, to a 9 month old baby.  A year later, he was married.  Two pieces of my heart, crushed.

The stories go on and on…

Divorce.

Break Ups.

Affairs.

Lies.

By the time I got around to dealing with New York, Mr. Perfect, The Accidental Relationship and the 29 year old, my heart was in so many pieces.  When someone takes those small pieces and hurts you again, all it does is make all those small parts even smaller.

Eventually, you are left with dust.  Suffocating and painful.  Making each breath a struggle.

I’m scared to care.  I’m scared to love.  I’m scared that sooner, rather than later, there are going to be no more parts left to break.  Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.  If there is no heart left, maybe it won’t hurt.  Maybe heartbreak will be thing of the past.

Until then…

blowing_moon_dust_by_evendeathlies

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4 thoughts on “Sitting Here…

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