A variation of that sentence has been on my mind the whole day.

I’m a writer: outside events, and internal turmoil directly affect my art and my work. Everything that happens to me, good or bad or simultaneously good and bad, can be written on a piece of paper or fill a blank screen, then edited ruthlessly enough for me and the editor of that publication to deem it worthy of others’ eyeballs and time.

*As* things are happening to me, I think of a combination of words and sentence structures that will correctly convey what’s happening, what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking, my truth.

When people read something I’ve written about and tell me they’ve felt that way too, that a piece I wrote resonated with them a lot, it just reaffirms my belief that my feelings, situations, knowledge aren’t just mine anymore and I don’t claim full ownership over them.

"Woman with long hair covered with a blue blindfold in Scarborough" by Oscar Keys
“Woman with long hair covered with a blue blindfold in Scarborough” by Oscar Keys

So focused on finding those words that make my truth your own, that I won’t ever be able to fully experience anything again.

That sounds sad, but I’m grateful I get to speak my mind and make others feel something, just as I’m grateful I’ve found so many writers and creators who give *me* The Feelz, whose work has brought so much to my life.

Strangely, knowing we share the same struggles, insecurities, fears, makes us much stronger.

Surely, there have to be worse things than getting your heart broken into a thousand pieces.

There’s famine, war, disease. There are people that don’t have a place to stay at night, live through the hard times another day. Some people abuse and rape and kill others. Babies are born dead. There’s so much injustice that it breaks your heart on a daily basis. A friend of mine’s father passed away. Some days later, his partner was diagnosed with cancer.

“The essence of anything is shaped by the feeling it evokes.”

Damn these walls.

I think, surely, logically, irrevocably, unquestionably, there have to be worse things than getting your heart broken. In a thousand pieces. Again.

Yet, at least now, I can’t come up with a satisfying answer as to what.

Yesterday it rained and rained; today, sunshine and clear skies.

Yes, still comparing weather conditions to my heart.

Still reminiscing over one of my hard-learned, all-time favorite lessons: knowing even though it’s not all fine now, all will be fine soon.


I taste my coffee, it’s strong and smooth.

Like our hearts.

Like us.




Disclaimer: This was written some time ago, my heart’s no longer broken. 

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