♥

Why do I have a heart? Unlike others, every beat of my heart is a sharp thrust, stabbing me over and over again. A heart should be your source of life. Mine? It's a source of pain.

I remember when the thought came into mind. It was when I saw your face as you look at her. When I hear your voice as you said goodnight to her. When I saw your eyes that twinkles at mere sight of her. When I hear you laugh at the most ordinary things she said.

From that day on, I started to curse the existence of my heart. I started to despise the amount of love it has, because it came with an even bigger amount of hurt and ended with the biggest amount of hatred.

I've tried to find a cure, something to heal or to fix this devastating condition. But it's as if I'm living a groundhog day. Every time my heart swells with love, soaring through the sky of happiness, it always came crushing down, pound and broken and not salvageable. No cure, nothing, can heal or fix it, let-alone make it whole again.

Today, I'm living each day holding my battered heart. Praying for a different day, a different outcome. Hoping for someone who've seen how my heart is but accept it anyway. Hoping for someone kind enough not to break it. Hoping for someone strong enough to protect it. Hoping that... somewhere out there... that someone exists.