The Things They Carried.
When we began, nothing, no one, could touch us. We were unstoppable. A siren couldn't have composed a more intoxicating melody than that with which our hearts kept rhythm. Laughter, sorrow, but exceedingly love was our common knowledge. Ours was a mysterious love to outsiders; we protected our treasure by riddling them with secrets. Both of us were damaged goods; little did we know the jagged pieces of hearts fit together perfectly.
But my heart is battle-worn. Fighting viciously for her noble cause -- us. Never allowing herself to think, while always deeply knowing, that it was friendly fire that savagely cut her down. She has died little by little with each fight, faltering with each new threat but remaining seemingly invincible, nonetheless. Even hearts stop beating against the pain.
I feel nothing, yet my eyes drown. My thoughts and memories brutally collide, sparing none. My feelings and heart, though, as if bound together have taken shelter somewhere past my grip of reasoning. It's as if they know not to join in a losing fight. But I would NEVER call my valiant heart a coward. Her scars, although well-hidden, bleed endlessly.
Do people change? The million dollar question that winner would surely refuse the answer to if sought. I have seen pain, felt it, lived it, abhorred it, and welcomed it. And when it takes an extended vacation, as it always does, I hungrily welcome the fresh air in my lungs, remembering what happiness tastes like. And then, as sudden and heart-stopping as losing the ground beneath your feet, it returns. The always-loyal pain. And I breathe a poisonous sigh of relief, knowing life is real again. I grin, hot pools of acid blurring the dream from my vision.
"Where have you been?" I ask.
But my heart is battle-worn. Fighting viciously for her noble cause -- us. Never allowing herself to think, while always deeply knowing, that it was friendly fire that savagely cut her down. She has died little by little with each fight, faltering with each new threat but remaining seemingly invincible, nonetheless. Even hearts stop beating against the pain.
I feel nothing, yet my eyes drown. My thoughts and memories brutally collide, sparing none. My feelings and heart, though, as if bound together have taken shelter somewhere past my grip of reasoning. It's as if they know not to join in a losing fight. But I would NEVER call my valiant heart a coward. Her scars, although well-hidden, bleed endlessly.
Do people change? The million dollar question that winner would surely refuse the answer to if sought. I have seen pain, felt it, lived it, abhorred it, and welcomed it. And when it takes an extended vacation, as it always does, I hungrily welcome the fresh air in my lungs, remembering what happiness tastes like. And then, as sudden and heart-stopping as losing the ground beneath your feet, it returns. The always-loyal pain. And I breathe a poisonous sigh of relief, knowing life is real again. I grin, hot pools of acid blurring the dream from my vision.
"Where have you been?" I ask.