Broken Hearts

It hurts to have your heart broken. With no hope at all. It's pathetic to cling to the little hope there is left, in the first place. But when your heart is broken, and you know, things will never be the same. It hurts. It hurts like hell.

I have been pathetic and broken. I have pushed myself down and picked myself back up. I put on a show, hiding my nervousness. I talked of near to nothing else for two bloody days, but messaging the boy, only to get my heart broken.

There will be others-hopefully. I doubt I'll remain single for my whole life. But I expect too much. Maybe it would be better if I did remain single.

But then again, there is the chance that one day I will find my fairytale romance. I will find someone who I can come home to and be kissed. Maybe, this person will love me wholly and never let me go. Maybe this person will love me just as much as I have loved them, or more. This person, whoever they may be, would know my favorite things, accept my strange obsessions, will love me gently, yet passionately. Maybe one day I will find this boy, because, I know somewhere, he exists.

Home & Lightning-bugs

Ah to be home.

To sit on the porch and show pictures and describe adventures. To point out sun burn and pet dogs that seem to have grown immensely. To proudly show-off the souvenirs you got and to hand family members gifts and watch as their eyes lit up, simply because they love that you though of them.

To be home is to be held in the person's arms whom you love and missed. To be home is to eat good food that you wouldn't find anywhere else and to have second-helpings. To be home is to lie in your bed and curl up against your favorite pillow or to kick your shoes off and watch TV on the couch.

To be home is also to be swarmed by lightning-bugs.