The tears, I thought had dried out in a drought. The tears, I thought were at the bottom of a barren well. The tears, I thought, didn’t belong to me anymore. But oh I was wrong, dear. So very very wrong. Because people, they make you hope for something better, something bigger and greater then yourself. But really, people, they make us wish for the things that we don’t have. They make us fold into the pieces of a child’s paper airplane.
Again, again our hearts are pulled apart with pliers, letting all the pieces of ourselves spill out onto the table. All the broken promises, healed bones, secrets, knowledge, ambition. All the times we have given up and the all the times we didn’t. The liver that barely functions, the hands we used to hold, they come tumbling out, tumbling out.
I’m not sure the ones who hurt us repeatedly over and over and over again will ever stop. I’m not sure they even want to. There may be a binding thread that holds us to them but there’s knots on knots on knots leaving miles in between.
And maybe that’s the hardest part of this life of ours: loving on people who just don’t know how to love on us back. Figuring out that no matter how hard we try, sometimes it just won’t work. And then accepting that it won’t work? Well, that’s the hard part sweet pea. The part that keeps us up at night and grows inside our brains.
The best we can do is hope. Believe, in something, anything, anything.
Photo via Pinterest