A Dirge For My Broken Heart


I know it felt like the end of the world. You felt like you would never be happy again, never be whole again. But it gets better. You will forget about all the pain he caused you and you will remember what it feels like to be happy again. One day you will feel all the weight of the sadness lift, and you will love again. You will let someone else in, slowly at first, and then all at once. You will do it, knowing there’s a chance this might end badly too, but you have to hope that it won’t. You will jump in with both feet, not dipping one toe at a time because that’s the only way to do it right. You know you had to have every fiber of your being ripped to shreds, so you’d appreciate it all the more when someone patched you up again. I know you thought that this time was different. And maybe it was. Maybe this was the most real thing you’d felt in a really long time. But that doesn’t mean it’s the last real thing you’ll ever feel.

You’re never prepared for a moment like that — when it changes so suddenly. It never gets easier each time around. One day you’re happy and carefree, and the next you’re wondering how things got so bad, so fast. But that doesn’t mean you stop trying. The hardest part is getting used to the idea that there will now be this huge, gaping hole in your life. The problem with happiness is that its a drug. Once you’ve known it, nothing else will do. When the happiness that you had gotten addicted to is gone, you will have to learn to deal with the withdrawals from going cold turkey. But you will find something else that brings you joy. Something else to fill the void. Hopefully that something else will be healthy. Hopefully, it will be a something else and not a someone else. Because giving another human being the sole responsibility of your happiness is the worst thing you can do. Derive your happiness from other things and other people, so that in the event that it all goes to shit, you don’t come crumbling down like a house of cards. Don’t bring down those around you as you fall. Some days will be better than others, but take it in your stride.

I think the worst part of it all is realizing that you bear no ill will despite it all. Despite all the pain and hurt, you know that you could never wish harm. There is no real winner here. You want the other to find happiness. Even if that means you won’t be there to witness it. And perhaps that is the litmus test that tells you how real it was, at least for you. The acceptance comes when you least expect it to. On a day when you seem to be at peace with all your demons. The feeling will slowly creep in. The finality will ring resoundingly in your ears. It will grow to a deafening decibel. And then as insidiously as it started out, it will abruptly stop. In the aftermath of the maddening silence, you will take a deep inhale. And it will sink in. Nudge its way into you, and nestle in your heart. It’s over. There is no more of this story left to be written. No prologue. No credit role. Just blank pages and black screens.

I think that somewhere along the way we forget that its okay to let go. We keep holding onto things that were never meant to be held that tight. And like grains of sand, the harder we try holding on, the more it slips away from us until our own fingernails are digging into bleeding palms. I think that maybe you are the only one who can give yourself the permission to let go. And that coming from anyone else is pointless until you are ready. But give yourself time. Trying to rush the process is futile. We all heal in different ways and no one else can know when its time, you are the only one who knows when you’re ready.

So dear broken heart of mine, I’m burying you today with the hope that from this soil that I have interred you in, you will grow into something beautiful. I hope that you grow to be a tall, strong Oak and you spread your branches far. Flower, and let the beauty of those flowers bring joy to those around you. Bear the most robust fruit you are capable of and let those around you enjoy every bite. Embrace the circle of life, because where one thing ends another one begins. But for now, this is me bidding you adieu. There is no place for you right now, all you’re doing is holding me back. This is not goodbye for good. We will see each other again, but for now, I need to bury you. I need to let you go so that the next time we see each other —we’re both in a better place.



To The Guy I Never Called Back

Hayden_Love Me

Dear Guy I Never Called Back,

Please know, it was not to hurt you. I meant you no harm, I bore you no ill will. It wasn’t something you did, or said. In fact, it was what you didn’t.

Perhaps it was condescending of me to assume I knew what was best for you. But in my defense, I thought it would be less messy this way. I figured you’d get the hint after one too many a text went unanswered. But you were persistent, and I admire that. But then the phone calls started. And those went unanswered as well. I had to block your number and then remove you from social media. You left me with little choice.

It baffles me how we could both be on such completely different pages, were we not at the same date? You assumed I’d agree to see you again, but I made no promises. I owed you nothing after just one date. I just decided it was best we went our own ways.

Almost two months later you express your disappointment in me. I empathize with your need for closure, but I can’t say I agree that you were entitled to it. Time moves quickly and leaves behind those who don’t move with it.

I guess you could say it was cruel to leave you dangling on a thread of hope, but let’s be honest — would you rather that I had been blunt and told you how rude and inconsiderate you were that day?

That being said, I still hope you find what you’re looking for. You had big things planned for the future, I hope that one day they come to fruition. I hope that our encounter left you with something other than a bitter aftertaste, I hope that you took something good away, and most of all — I hope you treat the next girl better.


The Girl Who Never Called You Back

Creating the (Physical and Mental) Space to Write

Great article on how the creative writing process differs for everyone!

The Daily Post

Over at Discover, editor Mike Dang asked five bloggers to describe and take photographs of their writing spaces. Read their responses.

When you write, are you typing at your desktop computer in your home office? Drafting a blog post on your phone, right in the WordPress app? Or are you like Deborah, below, creating your desk for the day at your favorite coffee shop?

To write in, I like a cafe with wooden floors, high ceilings, and tables with ample space. Once committed, I make the place my own. I give myself over to a familiar wafting aroma. I order an Americano, no milk, no sugar please. I arrange my piping hot coffee and writing accoutrements on my “desk,” and then I take in the sounds around me. An espresso maker sputters and whirs to an undercurrent of percussion-driven electronic beats and the indiscernible vocalizations of a female singer. Voices murmur, mostly in…

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Black Rabbit Holes


It’s easy to lose yourself in an ocean of diarrhea that is the overwhelming population of New York City.

There’s a reason why people come here to submerge themselves in an endless abyss, where there’s no way out to be found. Sometimes there’s just no turning back. I suppose that’s the appeal that this enchantress holds for all those who fall under her spell.

New York is the girlfriend that will make you fall in love, right before she rips out your heart and breaks your spirit. 

I’m on the edge of falling in, and what scares me isn’t that there’s no returning. What scares me is that I don’t want to look for a way out. I want to fall in, and once I do — I may find that I actually like it. I enjoy the feeling of being consumed, swallowed whole by a culture that embraces the lost and the bereft. The hope is that you’ll find yourself amongst the chaos. It’s a gamble that may not pay off. In fact, it may even drive you further down that chute.

But you see, that’s not how I was raised. I was raised to be responsible. To think of consequences. But spontaneity comes easy to me. I am reckless by nature and once I let myself give in to it there is no stopping the black rabbit hole I will fall into.

So here I am. Ready to crawl into non-existence.