Once I wanted to be the greatest.

To miss someone.. the empty hole in your heart that aches for someone you love, you need, you want. I guess that’s why it’s so easy to pack up my things and leave, time after painless time. I don’t miss anyone. Maybe my heart is the tainted blue of hypothermia, frozen and numb. I do need and I do want but love is a two-way street, you have to feel needed back, and wanted. Who’s to blame is not the question but people always leave. At least people always leave me. There is an empty hole in my heart that yearns, that aches, but there is nothing but pain in that dead vessel but for its blood pumping. I have long forgotten where the pain came from and long gave up the hope that it would leave, that I would mend. There is only sadness and anger and regret pumping through my veins, keeping me alive, barely. It’s my fault I won’t even give myself the opportunity, the glorified benefit of the doubt. My broken heart is my only companion, the lasting memory of the soul that perished, the one I miss. The little girl who thought she could be the greatest until she discovered that her life would sum up to nothing but mistakes, and as suddenly as she had discovered the world she was gone, crushed beneath the weight of her innocent sins. No one noticed her leave, not until there was no way back. So I nurse my faulty heart with the only shadow that stayed behind, her unblemished hope, but even that grows dark and indistinct and soon too will freeze over. Until perhaps I allow the heat to come close enough to warm me up and melt away all my foolish mistakes and return me to my clarity. And as I cry myself to sleep I pray for the morning I wake up and that little girl looks back at me in the mirror and tells me she’s found her way home.

I am only human and that’s my saving grace.