I really shouldn't complain, because in my twenty-seven years of adulthood, this is the first time my heart has been broken by a failing (failed?) relationship. Maybe that's because, in the past, I have been the "broker," not the "brokee." And not that I'm really a heart-breaker. I have only had three relationships in that twenty-seven years that were serious enough to have heart involvement. Unfortunately, two of those three were marriages. Ah, well.
But now, as I look to the future, I find that I can get all my other poop together, save for one area: what uses are there for a broken heart? For the longest time, my heart was a sponge, but I guess it has gotten to the place where it's wrung out, dried up and smelling moldy. There's got to be something I can do with this nearly useless leftover...
Here's the first thing that pops into my head:
Chew toy for the meanest, ugliest dog in the neighborhood.
Certainly, you could all help me with another 100 ideas of what to do with this broken down thing.
Ah, you got to love grief worked out publicly on the Internet, hehehe.