IT TAKES A HEART TO BREAK A HEART.

Yes and yet a heart is what we need to cobble a soul, simply say to yourself, I will not die, I will not break down, just because that's what survivors do, when cheated. People live to survive and adjust to maintain in the presence of cruelty, after all the only person who can judge us entirely will be God? and God is not human, none a mortal upon the surface of our reckless earth should potentially be competent enough to judge or condemn us. Surely people will bring pain so close to the brain but somehow be strong and believe that our only fear of death is reincarnation.

Be enthusiastic. Remember the placebo effect that 30% of medicine is showbiz.


Perhaps we opt to stay blind to the facts we believe, condoning ourselves when stabbed in the back and live in fear, choosing not to trust a partner or a friend. We might not trust our own, for the devil we trust hurts fatally than the holy grievances from unknown entities. We remain paranoid from the hocus pocus, to focus that breaking up a relationship has nothing to do with breaking hearts and in our minds we are blind, hoping to realise that broken hearts only represent our mortal weaknesses.

The bird of prey must always taunt, haunt and hunt the innocent, but what if the innocent ceases to be victimised, adapts to the future, somehow leaves the past all behind for one giant leap forward.
We have been trapped since birth, cautiously, cursed to fantasise relations in the name of lust. We live every panicking minute in a hearse and yet it's breaking up we should fear, as our own kind hurt us deeply. Yes, we yearn not to stop cheating halves or partners but fear to prosper after breaking up with our heart intact. We might be hurt in a way or another, psychologically and physically, yet our hearts remain pounding, we can alter our feelings and bounce back on our gracious feet. We don't wait for miracles and die hopelessly praying for heaven's door to open with a stone heart sliding through.

We must believe, when we feel broken hearted, that emotion recollected, when we are broken hearted is an inexact formula. For it is neither emotion, nor recollection, nor without distortion of meaning, a heart deemed broken. It is a concentration, and a new thing resulting from the concentration of a very great number of experiences which to the practical and active person would not seem to be experiences at all; it is a concentration which does not happen consciously or of deliberation. These experiences are not recollected and they finally unite in an atmosphere which is mindful and heartache only in that it is a passive attending upon the event.

He who the cup fits will always wear it, the problem is nothing but the fear of a broken heart. Yet our hearts are too strong to be even punctured. Suicidal is living in partnerships without love or importantly understanding. The best option is mutual breakup. Breaking up dare not break hearts, we are that our kismet offers us, pretty and young, always with dreams and high hopes, why then give our hearts away. We can imagine deliriously waiting for a better day though it never comes, wish ourselves a second chance and a pretty little luck to come our way, so to dwell in pain.

When the impossibility has been eliminated, whatever remains, no matter how improbable is possible.