This Is Not a Sad Story

This is not a sad story.

She loved and lost and loved and lost and loved and lost… and I began to wonder if she has any idea what she’s doing with her life.  I watched her stare at the night sky as tears roll down her cheeks, thinking to myself, does she ever get tired of wishing on the stars?  Or, the stars, what do they think of her wishes?  Could their twinkle be laughter or tears for her loss?

She opened her heart each time, scarred as it already was, to vulnerability – trusting, hoping, breaking.  Does she really know what she’s doing?  How stupid!  And I heard all the promises made to her, all the words she has kept in her heart and believed in.  I listened and wondered how she can be so naïve to believe in forever, in always.  To overlook the lies and the excuses and to believe in the best of people.  I wanted her to be mad, to be really mad at the world, at the lies, yet she sat there by the sea, hoping in silence, healing I suppose.  I heard the breaking of her heart in to pieces, yet she stayed there staring at the waves, refusing to break herself.

And I heard her mutter, “one more time” and I thought to myself, she must be really crazy!  One more what?  Heartache, hurt, pain, one more time to be tossed aside like the sea shells on the sand?  One more what?  Does she plan to cry tears as much as the ocean?  Then her heart whispered, “yes… again.  Love.  Until we get it right.

Sadness is temporary, but to have loved is eternal.

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