If I hadn't sliced open my foot I never would have figured it out.
Let me tell you something. And it will hurt, so I'm sorry. Please read it all the way through. I kissed Sam. I kissed him. And it was nice, he's warm and he has nice lips and he kisses sweetly.
You broke up with me in that not-breaking-up way and he found me, broken. And he wrapped his arms around me and it felt just the tiniest bit safer. And so. But the thing is, it was wrong. It was really wrong. I pulled away and he pulled away and at the same time we said, "I can't do this." And I can't. I don't want to.
I want to be with you.
When you left me I went home. I went home and threw that picture of us against the wall. Then I went to bed. I stayed in bed for, I don't know, days. Mom brought my meals in. I couldn't even say Thanks.
I was thinking about you.
I was thinking about kissing you. And not only that, I was thinking about holding your hand. And not only that, I was thinking about sitting next to you so our legs might be touching. And not only that, I was thinking about walking next to you, just feeling the air that touched you. And not only that, I was thinking about being in the same room as you. And not only that, I was thinking about breathing the same air as you.
I don't know how to live without you.
And what I mean by that is that I want to be with you, and not only that, I want to stand on my own feet.
And not only that. I want you to stand on yours.
So it's okay if you've kissed that library girl, or some other girl, or a boy. It's okay.
I'm making you something.
I got up after a few days, and on the way to the closet, I cut my foot on the glass I had just left there. For days. Somehow I'd managed to avoid the glass on my way to the bathroom, but now I cut my foot. It bled alot, and it hurt, too, but it will heal. And you will, too, and not only that, so will I.
And when I do, I'm coming to be with you.
After I taped up my foot and picked up the broken glass and vacuumed the tiny bits and put the picture back together - you can barely see the tears - after all that, I took the biggest piece to the garage and fired up the blowtorch.
You have to careful, really careful. You can't heat it up too fast or it will crack. And you have to work slowly or it will just melt away. And I don't want the flame to touch part of it at all, because it's sharp, like you are sharp, and that edge, even though it hurts, even though it cuts, is still you, it's still a part of you.
It's taking a long time, and I 'm doing it just a little every day, because not only that: I'm catching up in school. I'm going slowly, working on it like I've been working on you since I've known you, rounding the corners, they're almost lobes, I just have to figure out how to cleave it in the middle, without breaking it. The bottom point is still sharp.
Because the thing I figured out, Santana, is that the sharp edges are you. And not only that, so are the smooth ones. You're a romantic. With a cutting edge.
That's why I'm making you this shard into a heart.
Yours,
Brittany S. Pierce