Her Heart Bled Empty

She was a girl when she met him. He was a bit older than her, and the two got on well, making a noticeably effective team. A friendship grew, and the girl enjoyed the laughter and conversation between them. They shared many interests, and while they approached problems differently, they acknowledged each others' strengths and skills. They worked very well together. They were playful with each other, enjoying each others' company more frequently.

The girl started to slowly notice little things about him. That the way he smiled when he made mischief made her stomach feel odd. That his laugh would ring in her ears, and lit up the air around her with firefly lights. That when he hugged her, his scent surrounded her and reminded her of bottled sunshine. His voice was clear, and rested in her ears with a sense of calm.

'How odd,' she thought.

Young and inexperienced with relationships, she wasn't able to understand the importance of these observations. Nor did she realize that his actions were quite purposeful. Her inexperience made her completely unaware of his intentions and affections until one night, when he made them completely blatant with a kiss and the words,

"I like you."

Suddenly, the girl was lighter than air. Her head spun with the confession and her happiness. She accepted, and they became a, "we."

Her heart began to beat faster, and she could feel the blood rushing through her veins.

She felt more alive.

And their world was happy as some time passed. They laughed, shared secrets, comforted and cared for each other, challenged each other, helped each other, were creative together, communicated with each other openly. They shared friends, and met each others' families, and became even closer.

The magical words were spoken between them:

"I love you. Forever."

'This must be love,' the girl thought.

And then came that summer. That summer, he hurt her. Deeply. More than she thought possible.

And her heart bled, feeling as though she had run through with a knife.

She spent days and nights in physical and emotional pain as she healed, crunched in a ball, crying and screaming silently into her pillow.

But he told her. He was upfront about it. He admitted to it, apologized for it, asked for forgiveness. She set boundaries, and he agreed to them.

They had made it through that hurdle, and she felt they were stronger than ever.

A few years passed, and the two left college together. Soon, he bought promise rings, beautiful and perfect, and they wore them to display their love.

Things were more difficult now in the real world. Bills to pay, jobs to secure, everyday chores to attend to, and caring for each other was harder. She noticed his frustrations building with these things, and while she tried to help as best as she could, sometimes, his frustrations seemed to be impossible to soothe.

'But we said forever, so we'll get through this,' thought the girl, as the paper-cuts on her heart began to appear, leaking small rivulets of blood - and she worked to soothe each cut with her own happiness and his company.

The two took on more together, working to build toward their future. She worked to better herself to become a stronger person, bettered her communication skills, strengthened herself emotionally. She continued to love him, for him.

Time together became simultaneously more and less - more time spent together physically and mentally, but less of it being truly together. Struggles and arguments popped up, and while she took them in stride, he seemed to be beaten by them. He spent days silently ignoring her if he was upset.

His focus had seemed to shift. Now his worries had seemed to consumed him. His future goals had blinded him to his present, and he was struck with anxiety about how to achieve them. The joys in his life were slipping away.

She was confused. How could she continue to be so happy when he seemed so sad? Was she not enough for him? Were they not a team? She knew he had things that caused his worries to be more pressing, but also trusted that he would take care of them.

Her heart felt achy and painful, the slow bleeding building as small wounds continued to open up.

He continued to grow more distant, more irritable, less caring or attentive. The woman continued to love him, show him care, and be an open ear as he needed. She knew and understood him better than anyone, and realized that his attitude was a reflection of his inner self. And she offered herself to him.

'Because we said forever, we can work this out,' the woman thought, and she continued to love, even as her own heart bled faster.

Finally, the boy gave up. He told her he couldn't handle the emotions he had built up, couldn't deal with the resentment, the responsibility, the lack of space. He didn't like the way she did certain things, and that she didn't do them as well as he liked. He said to the woman, that while he loved her,

"I'm not happy with you."

And she felt her heart shatter, the last of the warm blood in her heart spill to the floor, leaving a vast, terrifying, cold emptiness in its place. The woman couldn't understand why, with all the love they had, he could give up. She knew she wasn't perfect, that there were things she was still working to improve, and that it put a strain on the relationship. But she was actively working on it. Didn't he see that?

As the woman pieced her heart back together, day by painful day, tear by tear, she realized that he didn't. He couldn't. He never addressed the "things," that he needed to. He couldn't see the happiness and joys around him over the sadness and worry because he wasn't happy with himself.

He didn't love himself.

The boy had not started with his heart full of the same warm, flowing love that she had. It wasn't necessarily his fault - he didn't know how to fill his heart. He hadn't grown up that way, hadn't seen it the way the woman had. And so he drained what he could, where he could, in an attempt to have his own.

But that would never work. The woman knew he needed to love himself first. He could never have truly loved anyone without that first. She began to feel her own heart mending, warmth returning, day by painful day, with the help of family and friends. She reminded herself that while others can help to maintain her happiness, the responsibility for being happy falls to each heart's owner.

The woman realizes that the boy stole a piece of her heart. She knows she may never get it back, as it depends on that boy becoming a man. But that stolen piece will not prevent her from filling her heart with warmth again, from allowing the blood to flow freely again. Her love was painful, mocking, and deceptive - but it was also blissful, playful, and the greatest of teachers.

Her heart is ready to bleed for another again, but knows to wait for a man to bleed with her, to share and maintain the warmth in their hearts together.

To give to each other to keep each other's hearts full.