On being broken

When a star is shining... its light, so big, so bright, you would think its illumination was infinite.  Turns out the light was dead long before the light ever reached you.  I fear this is my future condition.  

Part of my charm has always been first impressions.  Nice, funny, pretty, entertaining...  what happens when the shine wares off? Well, I relax.  Become myself and just rest.  The plague of the introverted extrovert.  

I am outgoing and playful.  I feed off the energy of others.  I glut myself on the happiness and laughter.  Yet in one night I can overdose on the high of the frenetic energy of being out with friends.  But once that high is gone, the detox can be long and depressive.  

When the moon is full and the illusive stars in retrograde, the introversion spirals downward making regeneration next to impossible.  There must be something to pull me out. 

 

It was you this time.  You didn't pull me out, it was more like yank, rip, scrape, dig.  After almost three years of love, you said you didn't make me happy, and couldn't stand to hurt me anymore.  This tearing of my soul, certainly pulled me out of my depression.  

I caught hold of a star and rode the light hoping it would sustain, and the fact that it's dead already was hidden behind the shine.  

Maybe it wasn't bright enough.  And maybe you aren't cut out to make me happy, but that is only because that is my job.  You made many excellent points... all with utter sincerity and pain beyond measure in your eyes.  But your points made did not take into account how strong I love.  They did not account for my desire for you. 

I am alone, without the one whom holds my heart.  

My light is gone, erased out of existence.  The darkness has caught up, and taken hold.  The broken fragments cannot be made whole.  

A shattered mirror can be put back together, but it will never be as strong, and its reflection will never be true.