Feb 13, 2019
Do you ever just feel so... empty. . . hollow. . . As though if someone pierced through your heart you wouldn't even bleed because you were just...hollow.
You would just crack and crumble like a delicate piece of china, hitting the rigid concrete then splattering into a thousand irregular shapes.
Every night as I return home from a day of laughter and gleeful songs I just feel hollow. As though all those smiles and giggles held no weight, that in reality. . . no one cared at all. That in their hearts I wasn't worth a penny.
Sometimes I'd ponder. If I passed away...how many would come to my funeral? There'd be my parents... and maybe he'd come too. When I think of that looming day, I cannot visualize my best friend's presence. Would they tear up? Would they speak my names ever again? Would my memories accompany them to their graves like there's did mine? I doubt it.
I envy them.
Those that know who they are. Who have friends that actually care; who love themselves just as much as they do others?
So plump and full while...me? I'm just hollow.
Like pottery ready to be broken.
BINABASA MO ANG
For the HeartBroken
Short Story"The heart was made to be broken" - Oscar Wilde A diary from my heart to yours. A story of being broken and the courage to get back up.
