We Can’t Make Everyone Love Us
And so we take our broken hearts and we crazy-glue them back together. We set them to dry and then 3 days later we put them back on. We wear them with pride because the cracks, the scars, the fact that it ended proves that there was something to begin with. We feel loss because we once felt gain; we feel broken because we were once whole. Our pain is a reminder that we used to be in ecstasy and isn’t that something to be proud of?
And we laugh at the boys who didn’t text us back, or love us back, or smile back at us because all boys are little fuckers—even the nice ones.