Super-Personal OMG Blog Post. Or Not. I Don’t Really Care.

If there was one thing I wish people would understand about me, it’s this:

I can’t fall in love.

I can’t steal your boyfriend, I can’t make out with your brother, and all that other drama that revolves around the black hole that is teenage love.

Now, I promised myself that I would be completely honest in this blog, so here goes nothing…

When I was in the fifth grade, I got my first taste of true humanity. I had stayed the night at the church for a girls’ sleepover type thing, and, just outside, a nineteen year old boy was shot dead.

There is so much more to that story, so much that you can e-mail me or whatever if you really want to hear it.

But that’s not the point here.

The point is, that night, my heart was broken. As my eight-year-old head wrapped around the reality that someone just died, someone was just murdered, I realized what we, as humans are capable of. I finally began to see the reality of my childhood.

And the bullet that killed that boy might as well have ripped through my heart.

Now, I’m not totally sure how this makes sense, but, basically, all love that my heart once contained spilled out and into the rest of my bloodstream, kind of like a glass bottle of Coke breaking in a sink full of water. The Coke mixes with the rest of the water.

The love that was once so concentrated in the center of my chest is kind of mixed in with the rest of me, a part of my feet, a part of my hands, a part of my mouth…

There’s love everywhere but where it all should be.

And, even if someone does come along and manage to put the Coke bottle that is my heart back together, I doubt it will really be the same.

I can’t fall in love,
merely because, when it comes to love, I couldn’t be any lower…

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