by Desdymona Black

Created on: June 29, 2009

The wounds still bleed. I wake up every afternoon, unsure if I truly want to open my eyes. I look at my cell phone. No text messages. No calls. It hits me all over again. He's gone. He's really gone, and he's not coming back. Than I'm bombarded with the usual questions from my overly logical mind: "Do you really want him to come back?" Then the answer, "If he did, you would never be able to trust him again, so just forget him." "But what if he's the one I'm supposed to be with?" my illogical side argues back. It seems to be a never-ending war between the two sides of my brain.

The fact is, not everyone moves on after their heart is shattered in their chests. It's a sad truth, but a truth, nonetheless. I gave my whole self to him, and now he's gone. He didn't die, no. He very much still breathes, still smiles, still laughs that laugh that sounds like angel's wings rustling, still looks at the world with those milk chocolate eyes. He's still there, beautiful to gaze upon, but cold and heartless inside. He left me for no reason. I couldn't breathe for the longest time. I'd go into a panic, gasping for air that I thought I wasn't getting, all because I knew I would never see or speak with him again.

My family and friends say the regular things; "You'll find someone better." "You need to just forget about him and move on." "There are plenty of fish in the sea." The fact is, if it isn't him, I want no one. I would much rather spend the rest of my life alone, as I have the past two years. My father sighs and shakes his head, "You are far too young to give up on life like this." I reply, "I haven't given up on life, dad. Only on love. Love isn't meant for me." Still, they all argue, and still I stand my ground. I am rooted to this spot in my life, as if my feet are trapped in concrete. I will not waver; I will not budge.

Is there a specific thing that keeps me holding on to him? Perhaps it was the way he made me feel. Perhaps it is because he is the other half of myself. Or, perhaps it's merely because I love him. I will always love him, no matter how much time passes. He has my heart, in ashes in the palm of his hand. Only he can form a new one from the ashes. Only he can be loved by me.

So, the fate of broken hearts is something that only the damaged can decide. You can either move on to someone new, or waste your heart and hang on to the one that you lost. I have chosen the latter. I do get lonely, but it's a different kind of loneliness. It's more of an aching for him. I would give nearly anything to hear his voice, even if only for a moment. This broken heart remains wounded, bleeding. It will never heal enough to move on to someone new, but it will stop bleeding over time.

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