Jane.

"She" gets so tiring.

Let's call her Jane instead.

 

Who is Jane? Good question. I could try to tell you, but how far can I go before words fail me?

Jane is everything. Maybe not to anybody else but me. But she is at least an everything to somebody. So many girls out there who are intellegent, sensible, kind-hearted, good-natured, attractive... How many are an everything?

 

Exactly.

 

There are not enough good men out there to match with the numerous good women. This I take granted to be true. Maybe it is. It's probably not though. The odds are that all the nice guys out there are hiding under rocks.

 

So, how does Jane tie into this? She is everything that anybody could ever want. Her outlook on life is always positive and cheery, able to find the light in the world of thick painted black. Jane is the most sincerely kind person I ever had the food fortune to meet. Although her actions aren't always thought-out, she at least knows how to think for herself. She's... She doesn't exactly ahere to the standard protocol of beauty, but... In her own special way, she's the most stunning thing on the face of the earth.

 

Hearts are soft, warm things. To break one, you've got to freeze it. Make it cold and hard, then throw it as hard as you can to crack it, far away from yourself.

 

Jane didn't only break my heart- she rethawed it, tore it open with her fingers, and ripped it from my chest. And it would have been nice if she stopped at that. I would have been grateful. But no, she wasn't satisfied. Every single vital organ I once had is missing from my body.

 

And maybe, if a girlfriend was all she was, it wouldn't have hurt so badly.

 

But we were two halves of the same soul. Jane and I were one with the other. We were- are- best friends. That bond runs deeper than anything else, besides our love.

 

Yes, we love each other dearly still, even though we're not together anymore. When there's something right in front of you that you've wanted so long, that you can't have... It pains you. It's a physical pain. It's nothing less than torment in the darkest form.

 

Jane is simutaniously my release and my prison.

 

And I cannot live without the other half of my soul, no matter how close the two parts are.

 

Shouldn't I be concerned about my own well-being?

Author's Note

This was a departure from my usual writing style, to try something a little more rustic and simple, but cutting at the same time. This is a more poetic style, in stark contrast with my usual strict literature. What do you guys think?

Reviews

[Adela Muresan]

How sweet.
I like the purity of the emotions you express.

A.M.

[gravitylava]

I love it! It's brilliant! Good Work =]
I love how you use her name, because it makes it so much better.
My favorite part is:
"Jane didn't only break my heart- she rethawed it, tore it open with her fingers, and ripped it from my chest. And it would have been nice if she stopped at that. I would have been grateful. But no, she wasn't satisfied. Every single vital organ I once had is missing from my body."

That is so amazing, I wish I could write like that. You have serious skill.
-michelle

[Kenna]

I love how much detail you put into it without making it seem like you're trying to.
Your writing style's fantastic. =]