Friday, October 5, 2012

Home Is Where The Heart Isn't Broken

I've told you about my home before--not my apartment, but where my heart is. Her. The faces of people I'll never see again...

This carnival keeps spinning, keeps dragging me down, telling I shouldn't leave, that I shouldn't want to leave it. Maybe this carnival doesn't take tickets, or maybe it does, but either way, I have to pay in blood and soul and spirit. This might be the perfect or the only world for you, but it will never belong to me. Your heaven's trying everything to break me down...

Why won't you just let me go? Why won't you let me hasten my way home? Why do you insist I must find happiness here? Why are you trying everything to keep me out...?

All I have of here is what I've kept to myself. The pictures and writings that she made, that I set down, stored diligently, that she entrusted to me. There's no grave for me to visit, only a pot of ashes that I have no access to. I know the funeral was supposed to provide closure, but it only closed the doors on my broken heart. The memories of shadows, ink on the page...

And I'm alone. I've tried moving on, but I can't. I've tried loving others, but it's never a complete love. I still love Her; my heart still belongs to Her. All the places I've been and things I've seen...

I can't stop thinking of Her. She's growing stronger again, and I just want to stop resisting and join her. ...a million shattered dreams...

It's not a matter of believing in an afterlife, which, for all these years, I only have for the sake of rejoining her. I don't believe in hell. Either there is the Omega Point, or there is nothingness, I don't care.

I just want the pain to end. I just want to find my way home.

--
Italicized text from Five Finger Death Punch's "Far From Home." I claim no rights to these lines.

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