Monday, December 10, 2012

♫...Smile, though your heart is aching...♫

She felt obligated to wear her happy face.
After all, wasn't her mother always extolling the virtues of positive thinking. "Really now! How do you ever expect anything good to happen if you're always dwelling on the negatives? You have to surround yourself constantly with positive energy!"
She cursed the day her mother first read The Secret.
How does one surround themselves with 'positive energy' when they feel all at once so completely empty, and yet filled to over-flowing with a pain so profound that sometimes she wished it would just finish her?
This is what dealing with him did to her.
Him with all his charm and intelligence.
Him with a laugh that made her soul smile.
Him. The only one who had ever truly held her heart.
Him, who she would never be good enough for.
She was always left feeling like a mass of raw nerves, and drowning in unwavering agony.
Every bit of her loves him.
Every bit of her misses him...misses him to the point where all she can do is make herself hate him in order to shuffle on through her dreary existence.
She goes to sleep at night, longing to feel his arms around her, to snuggle close to him, and to tell him that she loves him with all that she is, and all that she will ever be. Every morning she wakes alone, and the pain begins anew.
She puts on her happy face...and tries to muster up the courage to tear him from her soul forever...before it finally kills her.
Just smile.
Yes, mother. That will fix everything.


Aislinn said...

I think this makes me afraid to ever be a mother. Our mothers are so similar! In fact I feel like most are like that. Gah. My heart belongs to a stupid Italian man named Chris. I hate him and his stupid random texts. Letting me know that I'm still on his "sometimes pal" radar. But will be never again be on his relationship radar. Fucking men. And mothers.

Whiskey Sour said...

I know exactly how you feel, Sweetness. I know that's of little comfort, but you're not alone. I think I need to make myself let go...& move on...but I have to WANT to first. You're such a sweet soul, & I have to have faith that the universe has something great in store for someone so fantastic (c;

Stephen Clare said...

Ruby! you should know that I still read your blog. Also, as someone who has lately been attending way too many poetry slams and open mic nights, and getting more than a little drunk while doing so, I feel obliged to inform you that this reads just like a spoken word poem.

And a really good spoken word poem. You should patent this shit. It's just really really... good. Powerful. Sexy.

Work it, Mama dearest!

Whiskey Sour said...


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