Today I broke your heart for the last time.
You asked me for one more explanation and begged me for one last chance. You wanted to prove to me that you could change. That I was right all along. That we were still worth saving.
I always wondered what it might feel like to attend my own funeral; to watch everyone I ever loved grieve for me without being able to utter so much as a word. To just stand silently in that room with no way to tell any of them that it was okay. That I was still there. To tell them that life moves on and that we move on with it, in one form or another. Today I got a taste of that silent helplessness. Today I held you in my arms as you shook and cried without being able to offer any kind of meaningful consolation. Today, I might as well have been a cadaver: Cold. Motionless. Dead to you.
The human heart can hold so much love. Yet it can absorb only so much pain before it recoils into itself. I have seen, felt and caused so much of your pain that my own heart has gone numb. It does not want to deal with pain anymore. It wants to laugh. It wants to learn. It wants to be set free.
I hope your heart will feel like mine someday soon, Pussycat. But we all have to scrape the depths of our own personal hells before we can cry those beautiful tears of joy.
It's the only way we ever learn.
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