a matter of the heart

“When you give someone your whole heart and he doesn’t want it, you cannot take it back. It’s gone forever.”
– Sylvia Plath (as told by Elizabeth Sigmund)

If that’s too bitter for you, here’s one of Sylvia Plath’s drawings. Curious French Cat by Sylvia Plath

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even if i could

They just sat there. Empty plates and full stomachs. They just sat there. The two of them. He and his friend. His friend fumbled with the glass tea pot and poured jasmine tea into his white cup.

“Sometimes,” he said, “I wonder where it all went wrong.”

His friend looked up.

“I wonder if I could pinpoint that very moment when I made that mistake, you know? Just to know when and with whom.”

His friend reached over the table, over the empty plates, over the glass pots and white cups of jasmine tea, to his hand.

“But even, even if I could, it wouldn’t be useful now, would it?”

His friend squeezed his hand. That was the only thing his friend could do at this moment. That was the only thing his friend could ever want at this moment, to be with him and no one else.

there, there, sad little bird

Someone I used to know once told me, on the fourth night of us sleeping together, that he knew why I didn’t want to write sad stories.

“Why?” I said.

“Because you’re afraid of being sad,” he said.

That just showed how much he didn’t know me, that I did (and still do) write sad stories, and that writing happy, funny stories, doesn’t mean that I can automatically be happy. At that time, however, the best response I could come up with was, “Don’t try to analyze me.”

It was a red flag for me, but I chose to ignore it. Several months later, he said I was too exhausting for him, that meeting me was unhealthy.

It was a red flag for me, but I chose to ignore it.

***

In part prompted by this Prompt.