She’s still breathing

Still breathing

She’s sitting on the floor, with her spine glued to the wall. Her knees are pulled all the way to her chest. She has her heart in one hand, and a threaded needle in another.

In, through, out. In, through, out,

she murmurs to herself. She knows the mantra so well that she’s already a master of stitching up yet another deep tear on her beating heart.

In, through, out. In, through, out,

she continues stitching it up, diligently and attentively. Years ago her stitches were uneven, ugly and messy. Not any more. Nowadays, if you want to see the stitches covering the scars, you would have to look through a magnifying glass. You would have to look behind her warm, welcoming smile.

In, through, out. In, through, out,

Her plan was to just fix her heart and not think about the reasons which tore it up in the first place, because that would make the wound bleed once more and deeper. The images keep popping up, nonetheless. Images of things she never had. Images of things that, seemingly, the whole world is experiencing! Oh, so many wonderful things!

Things like midnight walks and popcorn and Dr. Who marathon, under a thick woolen blanket. Things like warm, long hugs and long conversations that range from deep and meaningful to completely ridiculous, with the same excitement. Things like cooking together and discovering new favorite places to run from the world. Places that spark the soul…all with that one special person.

The one person she could call her own. She wasn’t looking for a happily ever after. She was looking for a happily until we decide otherwise and move on in peace.

She waited, and then waited some more. It didn’t happen. She met a few men who were completely the opposite of the one she wanted. She met some of who are so close to her image of perfect imperfection, with only slight hiccup: they were married.

She did the most reasonable thing in her opinion. She gave up on it, on the whole idea of love completely, even though at first it felt like she was drowning inside, and it was all right for a little while, until her friend had coaxed her back into hoping.

Unintelligible ripping sound

Oh, right. She shouldn’t have thought of that, because hoping and not believing in the possibility hurt her equally.

There seems to be no way out,

she’s thinking, as she pulls the stitches tighter this time around,

There has to be someone for me….or am I wrong?

Is she wrong or right? She has no idea. It’s hard to imagine something you’ve never experienced as being true, so she’s spending her time, almost self-masochistically, observing other couples who are so blatantly and deeply infatuated with one another. And she’s happy for them.

After all, isn’t that the point of being human; to enjoy in others’ happiness? There is a value of being on your own, she admits to herself. But does that make it any less painful? Sometimes.

What she does know, is that she is going to keep smiling, and relishing the time she’s spending with her friends, being happy for those who were so lucky to find that special someone, whose lives are blessed with children and people they care about. She has all the reasons to continue smiling through pain.

She’s ok. She’s still breathing.