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It feels like someone crushed a hole into my chest with a blunt axe, then snapped my ribs apart with their bare hands before wrenching my heart from my chest, leaving it hanging by a single, rapidly-fraying thread. In my hands is the last brick for The Wall. It's the heaviest, the most dense, and the most difficult to pick up. I need both my hands to lift it in place and plug up that goddamned hole that dared to let him in. I have a choice to make...


Do I try to save my heart; put a hand to my chest and keep it from falling into the puddle of blood, tears, and dust at my feet? Or do I ignore it and push the brick into place, letting my heart fall out and die, guaranteeing I'll never, ever have it broken again?


Should I even risk this kind of pain once more? Should I even take the chance, knowing full well that if I ever dared to love again, it would only end in another betrayal that will push me one step closer to the edge of insanity? Or should I just slide that brick in place, sealing my fate as eternally jaded and bitter, living the rest of my life in a permanant state of numbness to all emotion, good or bad?


Call me crazy, but becoming comfortably numb is starting to look pretty good.