Style: Short Story
Statement: This story was written as a love letter to tired teenage girls everywhere. It is a short story, but it's meaning is long. It was both fun and catahartic to write this piece.
“Who could ever leave me, darling?
But who could stay?”
Taylor Swift, “The Archer”
****
My mother always said,
“You know, your grandpa didn’t die of old age. He died of a broken heart.”
I used to scoff and call her a dreamy sentimental person.
But late one night, fingers tapping out an familiar tune on the keyboard, randomly
scrolling
through tons upon tons of news articles, eyes growing heavy.
My own heart led me to one particular scientifically proven, factual, and true, story
that made my chest want to rupture in two, like San Andreas Fault.
Broken heart syndrome.
Broken heart, broken mind, broken soul
stressful enough events
will literally break. Your. Heart.
I wonder if losing friends could do that for me.
I’m scared of people leaving, people going away, people people people.
My life revolves around validation, an eager, pulsing, yearning need
People say I’m a fireball, but in reality, I’m a curled-up and on fire
Sitting at the cart on top of a rollercoaster, unable to drop down
Heat starts to dance up my veins and ignite my fingertips.
Every day someone doesn’t respond in at least one day
I felt my heart drop.
Or at least,
That’s how I used to feel.
But now.
Now I truly see the light that has been pulled out from behind the curtains.
I see myself
as a girl who knows her way around words.
I see myself
as a girl who knows her body is perfect just the way it is.
And I see myself
as a girl whose heart
is full
to the brim.
コメント