theartspotblog

How possible is it for a person to break their own heart?
When you know on what kind of situation you are getting yourself into but you just can’t help it… The small instants of hope, the moments of laughter and affection. Somehow they all promise you something real but in the moments that they might fail, you know deep inside that it is not what you are really hoping it to be, that it’s not working out.

I’m talking about love. About loving and not being loved. I’m talking about disgrace.

You’ve been hurt before and you promised yourself you wouldn’t love anyone that wouldn’t love you back; even though you know that things don’t work out that way; that closing your heart like that won’t work out, but right now what matters the most is your safety. You, so very selfish, always and forever protecting your heart above all.

But then again, how possible is it for a person after making a promise like that to be able to break their own heart? It’s stupid.

Getting used to talk to someone and having them being part of your daily routine and becoming important to you is not something you control. You like to believe you are just friends, and you like to tell the people that you are.

I figured out that when you like someone after you’ve had your heart broken, (doesn’t matter how long ago was it) it takes a lot of time for you to accept the fact that you might be in love. So you just keep telling yourself you are good friends, that you get along very well, and then you end up saying you like them, but not that much. It’s unacceptable… In love? Again? Never. Same mistake? Shame on me.

I knew this moment on what horrible situation I was getting myself into… After spending 4 years with my heart closed, single, clean of love and broken hearts; your appearance was just not so adequate. But how amazing is it when you just start doing stuff without even thinking about it; things like caring.

Caring has been by far the greatest reason of my breaking.

It’s amazing how you can stay up late while sleepy just to talk to that person. How you can wait up hours for him to get home and see if he got safe. How his things become a matter of interest for you. Like sitting down and ask him how his day was, his night out, his grades, his game; and how his glories and failures become also yours.

I could’ve stopped from the beginning, actually. I could’ve just not let this get so true. I could’ve not been so nice and just follow my instinct. I could’ve done a lot of things… Like not caring for example, like being an ignorant for my own sake to avoid this thing from happening; but I didn’t, I took that stupid leap of faith, because somehow it all looked better with you and because it all felt so good and right, like having someone be the only reason why I check my cellphone, why am I so sleepless every day, why am I smiling while I’m texting.

You were not the man on my dreams, you were not the ideal guy, not a prince, not nothing; but you for sure felt like home. You felt like wearing pajamas and ponytails. Like having no makeup and being barefoot. You felt like the greatest satisfaction. You are my best conformity, my greatest reason.

This love feels mature, not whimsical. Feels like doing great things with you. Feels like weekdays and movie nights, not weekends and parties. Feels innocent, feels pure. This love is not at his highest level, but how great would it be if it got the chance to reach it?

It’s been so long since someone made me write and here I am, because of you I am. You make me write and I might say that you are the greatest and the worst thing that ever happened to my writing. My mixed feelings of love and happiness, with sorrow and hopelessness. You make all my senses shake and loose position but you are so innocent, you are so diffident. You are a wallflower and you deserve to be loved. And I could promise you I would treat you like you should.

But it’s all getting out of my hands.
If only you knew.
If only your eyes weren’t so distracted.
If only they saw me.
If only you heart wasn’t pounding for someone else.
Or if only it was for me.
it’s your fault if I love you, it’s my fault if this hurts
How possible is it for a person to break their own heart?

Maria Vasquez L.