And just like that she breaks another heart as easily as snapping a twig from a tree. She leaves without a backward glance and returns home alone. Her outward persona is not what you would call cold. To see her now, walking down the dark street towards her car, you would be hard pressed to describe her as any one thing in particular. She is focused but distant, her concentration is set somewhere else deep inside her head. She must be able to hear the cries from the top floor, but no feeling registers upon her face. As she slides the key into the lock the final scream reverberates through the stairwell of the block of flats. A deep wail, high into the night sky and out into the dark. In the surrounding apartments, people look up from their books, away from their televisions. Cocking their heads to side, frowning as they strain to hear, turning to their partners, looking to see if everything is alright. Her only reaction; to get in the car and drive away. She doesn’t understand. Through childhood and into her teenage years no one paid her a second glance. Diaries full of her latest crushes, all that unreturned love. Friends with boyfriends and love interests, dreams of being just like them. By fifteen she had resigned herself to the fact that she was not loveable. Not sexy or alluring. Not worthy of someone else’s emotions. Now, nearing her thirties she is almost innocent to the advances of interested parties. Completely surprised by their love and attention. Two, maybe three weeks go by. Its fun and its good. You can’t find a fault. Then she’ll lay it out on the table as plain as day. ‘I will break you’ It is not a conscious decision. It’s not planned or premeditated. It’s not even obvious when it’s happening. One day though, she will hear the audible snap, the crack the rice bubble effect. She hears the snap crackle and pop of their heart breaking. Then it’s the rush of the walls building quickly around her. Nobody ever goes in, nobody ever comes out. She is nearing home. She doesn’t need to cast her mind back to remember all the times it has happened. As she closes her eyes in her large empty bed and drifts off to sleep, the dream hits her and she’s forced to remember. The eyes. It’s the eyes. Rows and rows of eyes, staring at her. Full of sadness and pleading with her to fix everything. The scene changes as if a camera is zooming out and she sees the bodies of her broken army. They are holding their hands to their chests, clutched over their left breast. Blood pours to the ground and floods along the earth. No amount of pressure will stem the flow. They are forever broken and the blood and hurt will run forever. The camera follows the stream of blood along the ground and to the base of a tall tree. Sitting on a wide branch we see the girl. In her hand she is gently holding a bundle of sticks. Broken twigs.
i've got so much to tell you if only i could find the words that said exactly what i try to mean
there's so much to show you but the pictures that i draw these days dont look the way i want them to
and you asked me what i wanted i stared at you for what felt like a day still havent responded but at the time i knew that it would be the best for me to go away
so i packed my bags i told you it was for the best that this would never do
you said 'relax' and when i looked at you i knew the answer right away
its not what i want this life we lead, i'm over it its time to go, its time to move on its not what i want but what i do know? i dont want this
