Broken

Sometimes things break and there’s nothing you can do to fix them. There are no words or actions appropriate that can fuse the fibres back together of something that has been so irrevocably ripped apart. The break can perhaps be patched over but things are no longer the same, there is a visible mark covering the hole. Sometimes the parting is quick and biting, like ripping off a plaster with a loud shout. Sometimes it is slow, it eases away like a progressive tear in a pair of jeans. Both are frustrating, both have their own feelings of hurt attached to the process, both are seemingly unstoppable. In the past I have tried to fix these breakages, to quickly hash together a sufficient response that could, at least for a while, hold back the oncoming tide. I try a lot less now. The hurt is still there but I have come to accept that these incidents are unavoidable in life, that nothing is static and things do just slip away. I read recently, “If someone wants to be a part of your life, they'll make an effort to be in it. Don't bother reserving a space in your heart for someone who doesn't make an effort to stay."

I have, in the last few months, learnt this lesson well.

By Bean, inspired by a conversation with Belle