An open letter to heartbreak.
To whom it may concern,
Teenage girl hearts are not playthings. They are not silly, or simple, they do not lie. Hearts never lie. They do not forget, they sometimes forgive, and they do regret. They wish for the best, they think they can’t do better, and, when they give you everything, it is not to be taken lightly. They trust, they adore, they soar. They flutter around cute cheesy things, they crack with every Adele song. And they demand not to be lied to.
Teenage girl hearts are strong, for they do not yet know the power of heartbreak. They love unconditionally, and it isn’t the way a child loves. It is wonderful, scary, beautiful love. It is the kind that they fight for.To parents, to friends.
Teenage girl hearts are easily bruised. They are fragile. They hold your heart in such high esteem, it is hard to do wrong. They are your best friend, your biggest proponent, your softest touch. They are new, fresh, they are young, and so old.
But they can be broken. And lied to. And tossed aside for another.
They can wonder. They can wish and beg and pray and dream. And they can hope.
Hope is a heart’s worst enemy and kindest friend. Hope for change, for a phone call or even a simple text. For an “I was wrong,” or even better, “I’m sorry.” Hope that in a few days you’ll change your mind. Then a few weeks, a month, a year later. Hope that they left enough of an impression, that they were not wrong for loving you.
That someone else will leave you thinking the same thing.
That someone else will have you crying at night, wondering what they did wrong.
That you’ll understand one day the repercussions of being careless.
That you wont lie with your eyes, or say words you don’t mean.
That you will miss this heart one day, the freshness of new love.
That you will understand.
That one day they forgive their trust, at least enough to let someone else in.
That they will flutter again, soar, with the knowledge that things are ok. We’re ok.
That someone will come in, slowly break down these walls, make us laugh.
That one day when we hear these songs we wont break a little, but know there is good coming. And we will sing along. Loudly.
We don’t ask for the world, for your world. Just for enough grace to handle things like a lady. We ask for our hands to be held, for cute texts in the morning, and goodnights at night.
And we ask that we be treated with respect.