to me, being heartbroken always meant being sad because somebody had hurt somebody else. romantically speaking, that is. like that time one winter i thought i loved a boy, and he didn't want me. when he stared through the windshield and shook his head as we drove through abysmal january weather.

he. didn't. want. me.

yeah, pretty heartbreaking.

but now, i think there's a different meaning.
sure, that stuff's heartbreaking. been there, done that, and completely agree with the validity of its hurt. but there's more: there's the heartbreak that happens when you're just living and something as small as driving in the car listening to a mix cd was something you did together (and would still do, if there weren't a few states between you) and you wish on every dandelion seed that had ever been blown that they could be with you at that moment.

but they can't.

and that, dear readers, is heartbreak.






[but the good news? he never looked through a windshield and shook his head that he didn't want me. he can't even drive the car because he doesn't want to let me go.]

our hearts have defense mechanisms.
sometimes of their own accord.
mine has been put into action, and i didn't realize it until today.

revolutionary because i love vulnerability, remember?