How shall I weep for you? Great gasping sobs, trying to swallow all that I have lost? Quietly, burning tears sliding from my eyes to my mouth in an endless cycle? Rent my clothes, throwing things at the walls and myself on my bed? The drums of Sigur Ros smash into my heart. ~ I read a fairy tale once. I read a lot of fairy tales. "My heart is the most beautiful heart the whole world," said the young man, holding up his heart for all to see. It was perfect and unmarred, glistening like a ruby in the sun. "Oh yes," said the townsfolk as they gathered around. "Truly that is the most beautiful heart we have ever seen. See how perfect it is. See how the surface is smooth and even." And the young man was proud, and would go showing his heart to anyone who would see it, until one day, when he was showing his heart to a crowd in town. "That," said an old man loudly from the back of the crowd, "is the ugliest heart I have ever seen." The young man was shocked. "What do you mean, old man? Look at my heart! It is perfect!" "Perfectly ugly!" cried the old man. "For truly, I have the most beautiful heart in the world." And he held up his heart. It was a beastly scarred thing, where pieces had been torn off and other pieces added that didn't quite fit. There were gaps and overlapping pieces, scars and extra bits, so much so that the young man could barely see the shape of the old man's original heart. "For each time I have loved, I have given someone a piece of my heart, and every time I have been loved, I have been given a piece of someone else's heart," the old man explained. "The love does not always match, and the pieces don't always fit, but truly, that only makes it the more beautiful." And the young man stared at the old man's heart for a long time. Silently, he lifted his hand to his perfect heart and tore off a piece, handing it to the old man, who gave him a piece back that did not quite fit. Paul got too large of a piece of my heart, and gave nothing back. G got another large piece, but the piece I got back was the size of a nickel. My heart feels like a tiny, scarred thing, and I'm too afraid to give away any more, lest I have nothing left at all. ~ How shall I weep for you? I shall not weep. I am too weary to weep. I've got shit to do. . Rosie.
Before&After
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