I won’t romanticise heartbreak. For me it’s been like a kind of death, but one where you’re forced to keep living. It’s entirely shit!
But maybe love and life aren’t about avoiding the hurt and the bruises, maybe it’s about collecting scars and dragging your battered heart through, to prove that you showed up for it at least ! As I sat hiding in the loo’s on school sports days with my book, I remember my PE teacher finding me and whilst dragging me out to the playing field rambling ” it’s the taking part that counts …. “
Yeah well tell that to my clapped out little heart ! She literally turns in on herself at the mention of me meeting someone, and the potential battering she’s no doubt likely to endure at some point.
I honestly think that if love were bottled and labelled as poison I’d go right ahead and drink it regardless. Warning signs ringing and I’d still be there, thinking my bottle really wil contain the meltylovestuff! Like I’m bloody Jesus, changing water into wine !
So, it turns out I’m really not Jesus, I can’t turn the poison into the meltylovestuff ! I’ve got it wrong a couple of times, Ive guzzled the poisonous love and suffered the consequences, but like any drug sometimes the highs are worth it !
But does that mean I’m hanging up my melty dancing shoes … Does it heck !
To love and to be loved is the most beautiful thing. It’s the only thing. It’s not something I plan on giving up on just yet. But this battered little heart needs a few plasters applied before going to battle once more, that’s for sure !
Any first aiders ….?