A Slap of Shame on my Heart: A Beautiful Loss

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
I wrote this in a transition period after a harsh break up with my first boyfriend, someone I thought i would always be with because our connection was so strong. My heart was and is still a little broken. This is my grief and my recovery in a nut shell.

Submitted: November 16, 2014

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Submitted: November 16, 2014

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There was nothing to explain what happened that day. I felt the same grief I thought Johnny must’ve felt after killing someone to save Pony boy in The Outsiders. Time lulled. My smoking increased dramatically over the course of a few days. My thoughts about the world around me were more in depth now that I had effectively been pulled out of a hazardous comfort zone. I went to the library tripping on acid. I daydreamed that books were swimming in tidal waves back and forth across the beach of a shelf. I produced more art. I paid off my library fines and read more books. I stopped worrying about money and pried every last grimy ounce of stress from my body. On days that I ran late for work in the afternoon, I wasn’t worried. Instead of sitting at the East bound bus stop up on Colfax and Adams I was on a beach somewhere in Jamaica smoking a fat blunt while jamming out to “Three Little Birds”. I would get to work and the nervousness I usually had speaking to certain customers eased up enough to make good conversation. The downside of being on vacation in my mind so much was not being able to handle medium sized chunks of stress when they appeared. Small amounts of it seemed to be the end of me. I slept a lot, thought a lot, and used music to drown out loud negativity and smoked more and more. I felt guilty about smoking so much, and wondered how much I was really fucking up my lungs. Usually then I dismissed the thought as unimportant and moved on with the day. My time dragged, my time flew. My mood swings were violent and sometimes I just wanted to be alone. One day, I understood my true value. I realized that I was not the fat ass unattractive female I always thought myself to be. I realized that every new person I meet is a clean slate. How long had it taken me to get here? I felt my development was too slow. But I also was, and still am, in that transition period of deep questioning such as, “What is the purpose of my life?” I still feel the violent shove of a loss in my heart during certain moments of the day. To contain it I think to myself about how no matter what I feel it doesn’t change what happened between us. This calms me because my life continues. The love I had seen and experienced was a beautiful concept with many extended details and agreements between two hearts. I cleaned off the all the debris and locked it away in a chest down inside my soul. The purity of it, like a small silver locket, is still unknown to me. And so life continues, onward I go.


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