Heart-breaker

My heart's been breaking for years.  The slow fracture growing bigger each year. The gradual death of a heart is a sad, dull ache that is surprisingly easy to become accustomed to (like the frog that boils to death as the cold water turns ever so gradually warmer).  Life with a broken heart is a life without exclamation points.  It is the life of the living dead. In some ways it is not much different than any other kind of life.  It is full of many of the same things: work, bills, kids, entertainment.  But, it is layered with a never ending fog.  There are good moments, for sure. That is what would trick me into thinking I was awake or convince me time and again that sleep walking through my life would be sufficient.  Last summer I got a glimpse of what life with a healed heart could be like as I momentarily woke up.  Pushed back asleep, I never could let go of the FEELINGS I had.  My zombie life was being attacked by the memory of being able to feel.  

Last night I broke someone else's heart.  It also hurt like hell- a sucker punch to the gut, leaving me breathless, nauseated.  The intensity, so much higher than the breaking of my own heart.  But, it had to be done to escape this mediocre dream-state.  It had to be done to give BOTH our hearts the opportunity to heal so we can BOTH live the rest of our lives awake!!!

Now I think I'm going to go throw-up.😢😢😢

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️