When you're nursing a broken heart it's hard to do anything properly or tackle anything head on. It's a strange feeling which doesn't really burn you up like the flames which engulfed you when you first realised that you were in love with said heartbreaker, but still crushes you with un-requited pain just the same. It's as if some parasite is slowly sucking the oxygen from your breath until all that remains is ice and a feeble attempt at sarcasm. In fact, the more I compare the two states the more I see that they are not actually so different. If I lay the two situations out, one on top of each other like a sheet of tracing paper (which tears very easily) on top of a shiny neatly unfolded map (on which the directions and the place names keep fading and changing) I can actually see the striking difference between the two.
The difference between falling in love and being totally and demonstrably heart broken? When all the kisses lay smashed like cut crystal and the promises made, now belong to the heart of a stranger? The difference my friends, is HOPE. Right now HOPE seems only as far away as death. A lonely death, surrounded by pillars of salt and drowning in the frozen blood of a broken heart.
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