I've created & kept this blog to compile the thoughts, dreams and wisdom that I've discovered from others or merely written myself. This blog is, in a sense, an expression of everything that is me.. Whether I wrote it or not. The most recent entries are a series of quotes, lyrics and videos.. But travel back through the archives and you'll delve deep into my heart, through my own words.

To those who I've quoted or borrowed from: Thank you for being beautiful.. for deeply inspiring me in one way or another. I hope you find that I've used your material in an appropriate fashion.. I try always to cite my sources. I take NO credit for that which is not my own.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

The Pieces of a Broken Heart Are Wasted Time.

Whoever said that nostalgia simply "comes in waves" had to be a phenomenal swimmer. That, or they had a great set of swimmies. Nostalgia comes in violent torrents, sweeping up every fragile soul in her path and dragging them deep under her cold, dark waves, leaving them lost and forgotten beneath her black abyss . Do you know what drowning feels like? Oh, you don't? Take a deep breath. Now. Stand in nostalgia's way. How long can you hold it?


She was an awkward, quirky, mess of an individual. A far-fetched dreamer, a tragedy at best. Her standards and morals changed rapidly with the seasons, and faith was, to her, fleeting--five empty letters that lacked substance and meaning. Some days, she hated everything about herself and her surroundings. Other days, she found splendor and joy in everything that crossed her path. Her dreams were nothing more than an ever-changing series of illusions and impossibilities, but she sang of them everywhere she went and never thought twice about the way others perceived them. She wasn't the most confident girl, but she always held her head up high so that no one could ever figure it out. "She found love in all the wrong places... Same situations, just different faces." Her conscience was a constant reminder of how poorly she allowed herself to be treated, but she justified it by telling herself that someday, sometime, the situation would result in something magnificent. Someday, she'd meet someone terrific... who wouldn't care about her mousy hair or her plain features... He'd dig deep inside of her soul and discover her beautiful secrets, and he'd love her for everything she stood for. She held out hope no matter how many times her heart was crushed/shattered/bruised, because she knew that somewhere out there, he existed.

He did exist. He found her. She hesitated.. But only for a moment. He romanced her and gave her hope. "She was a wreck, but he loved her." He swept her off her feet and she handed him her heart in return. He broke down her walls. She helped lower his guard. "She was a wreck, but so was he." She began falling for him, and then he fell away. He found her. She had him. He had her. She lost him.

Unlike library books, hearts aren't meant to be returned.

For years, she held out hope for him.. That someday, he'd return. He'd have to return. She set aside a piece of her heart, in hopes that IF he ever returned, they could resume right where they had left off.

She met many great people, and even some less admirable creatures. She'd laugh and smile and tell the world that she was happy, but secretly, she felt like she was suffocating. Her days and nights filled up, and while she kept busy, she made sure to keep busy with good company. In time, she even found someone to occupy her mind. Someone who made her blush and snuggled close to her at night and kissed her when she felt blue. But no matter how much she tried, and how guilty she felt about it, she could never give her entire heart away, because a piece still belonged to him. Her jigsaw-puzzle heart was (and would forever be) incomplete.

He went on to bigger and better things, while she remained trapped--a prisoner of her heart and a dark, bleak shadow of her former self. He forgot her name, forgot his pretty words, forgot that he carried that piece of her heart with him, while she remembered everything for both of them, all by herself. Alone. He opened her mind, her heart and her eyes to love... & then he stripped it all away in just an instant. She suffered silently, never giving up hope, but all the while knowing that he would never put her doubts to rest. They would cross paths now-and-then, but only to exchange brief and impersonal conversation, saying goodbye's as soon as awkwardness threatened to settle in. "And the last time he saw Dorie, he didn't know what to say..." He'd look down at her with pity in his eyes, and she'd gaze back at him in despair, remembering.. Wondering. Wanting to make him remember everything as she did, every single day. Her words, so many times rehearsed to herself, would foolishly come out scrambled, in stutters and in ramblings, and nothing she wanted to express ever exited her lips. "I miss you."--"You saved me.".--"Thank you because you loved me." Random, brief encounters were all she'd ever get. He'd never hear her questions, and she'd never get his responses. Her closure would never, ever come.


Contrary to popular belief, the "happily ever after" fairy-tales that we grew up loving and believing in have led us to have false hopes about real-life "fairy-tale romances". We are a generation led by deception and lies and unrealistic expectations about love and lust and "happily ever after".


Kaitlin said...

HI!!!!!! I haven't talked to you in forever...I'm so happy you found my blog! Hope things are going ok stateside...you are an incredible writer...can't wait to read more! :)

Lorelle said...

I love you. You write so well! You cant help feeling what you're portraying.