Post by Tismri on Feb 14, 2013 21:56:15 GMT -5
OOC: It's Valentine's Day. Time for some perspective on this pointless holiday from a single individual.
My heart lies within its chest, locked away until the opportune time. The time when I will give it away to a special man, one who I know will cherish it always, and care for it as I would for his. I only take it out to polish it, shine it until it glows like a star in the sky. I keep it in perfect condition, all for him, this unknown man.
I see him from a distance at first. Too shy to talk, I just listen. He laughs and jokes and enjoys life. I slowly move closer to hear him better. I sit among his friends with whom he chatters away. He is so cheerful and funny--handsome to boot.
I get the nerve to speak up, but everyone else all speaks at once, and my words are completely drowned out. Still, that first comment emboldens me, and soon I jump into the conversation. Before too long, he notices me! He is speaking with me specifically.
After a time, I gain still more courage. I pull him aside, away from his friends, to speak with him individually. He is delighted and delightful to speak with, and now we often find ourselves conversing with one another.
He is kind. He is thoughtful. He listens to me, comforts me when I have a bad day, and makes me laugh when I am down. He is often on my mind, and when I polish my heart, I picture myself offering it to him, our most sacred of rituals. He could be the one, the one I have been waiting for.
Gingerly, I take my heart out of its chest. I admire it as it shines like a solitary star in a vast night sky. Dare I? It is always a risk. The heart is so fragile, but I trust him completely.
I look up, startled by nearly footsteps. Hastily, I hide my heart behind my back as I see him coming. I call out a happy greeting, always glad to see him. He smiles at me so warmly, I can feel my heart burning with the joy I feel.
"See what I was given today." He holds out something in his hands, and I look more closely.
It is a heart. It is lovely beyond compare. It radiates its beauty like Venus, and he holds it so very delicately.
I feel my own grow as cold as ice.
"I gave her mine today as well," he sais. The look in his eyes is so genuinely happy. "I know she and I are meant for each other."
I smile at him, and as I do, I feel a stabbing, wrenching pain. My hands have tightened around my own heart. I can feel it cracking, snapping, shattering. Still, I smile genuinely, forcing the threatening tears to remain concealed within my eyes.
"I'm so happy for you," I tell him honestly. The heart in my hands completely falls apart and I drop it, despite the all-consuming pain, and I offer him, not my heart, but a simple hug of joy for him. He goes along his way, not noticing the broken pieces of my heart beneath his feet as he walks on to join his waiting bride.
He is gone. Now I kneel to the ground, collecting the pieces of my heart. It is no longer pristine like a star, but a mere shadow of its former beauty. It doesn't matter, I think. It never could have compared to hers.
I place the pieces back inside its chest and lock it tight. I am still smiling. He is happy; that is what matters. I am glad, and happy for him--for them. But the price for my happiness was the breaking of my own heart.
My heart lies within its chest, locked away until the opportune time. The time when I will give it away to a special man, one who I know will cherish it always, and care for it as I would for his. I only take it out to polish it, shine it until it glows like a star in the sky. I keep it in perfect condition, all for him, this unknown man.
I see him from a distance at first. Too shy to talk, I just listen. He laughs and jokes and enjoys life. I slowly move closer to hear him better. I sit among his friends with whom he chatters away. He is so cheerful and funny--handsome to boot.
I get the nerve to speak up, but everyone else all speaks at once, and my words are completely drowned out. Still, that first comment emboldens me, and soon I jump into the conversation. Before too long, he notices me! He is speaking with me specifically.
After a time, I gain still more courage. I pull him aside, away from his friends, to speak with him individually. He is delighted and delightful to speak with, and now we often find ourselves conversing with one another.
He is kind. He is thoughtful. He listens to me, comforts me when I have a bad day, and makes me laugh when I am down. He is often on my mind, and when I polish my heart, I picture myself offering it to him, our most sacred of rituals. He could be the one, the one I have been waiting for.
Gingerly, I take my heart out of its chest. I admire it as it shines like a solitary star in a vast night sky. Dare I? It is always a risk. The heart is so fragile, but I trust him completely.
I look up, startled by nearly footsteps. Hastily, I hide my heart behind my back as I see him coming. I call out a happy greeting, always glad to see him. He smiles at me so warmly, I can feel my heart burning with the joy I feel.
"See what I was given today." He holds out something in his hands, and I look more closely.
It is a heart. It is lovely beyond compare. It radiates its beauty like Venus, and he holds it so very delicately.
I feel my own grow as cold as ice.
"I gave her mine today as well," he sais. The look in his eyes is so genuinely happy. "I know she and I are meant for each other."
I smile at him, and as I do, I feel a stabbing, wrenching pain. My hands have tightened around my own heart. I can feel it cracking, snapping, shattering. Still, I smile genuinely, forcing the threatening tears to remain concealed within my eyes.
"I'm so happy for you," I tell him honestly. The heart in my hands completely falls apart and I drop it, despite the all-consuming pain, and I offer him, not my heart, but a simple hug of joy for him. He goes along his way, not noticing the broken pieces of my heart beneath his feet as he walks on to join his waiting bride.
He is gone. Now I kneel to the ground, collecting the pieces of my heart. It is no longer pristine like a star, but a mere shadow of its former beauty. It doesn't matter, I think. It never could have compared to hers.
I place the pieces back inside its chest and lock it tight. I am still smiling. He is happy; that is what matters. I am glad, and happy for him--for them. But the price for my happiness was the breaking of my own heart.
