The Heartbreak Kid
Wednesday, January 23rd, 2008The Heartbreak Kid
There’s been a mistake. I’m not supposed to be here. I was asking around for that place where the strongest of the strong fall to their knees, the fiercest of the fierce cower in fear, and where angels dare not tread. I was pointed here! This isn’t so bad – I could’ve ended up in the dentist’s chair! *shudder*
I was on my way to a friend. Poor girl’s suffering a fate worse than any affliction, addiction or animal possession. Or is it? Well, she is heartbroken.
Her poor, panicked mom called me, pleading for a cure for her daughter. She had fallen inconsolable, incoherent, and incorrigible. Turns out that Valium, vodka, and Vick’s Vaporub just don’t work. The mum was out of earplugs too. Good friend and part-time assassin that I am, I assured her I would help.
I told her, “Tita, it will be ok. I’ll be right there. In the meantime, please tell Phivolcs not to be alarmed. It’s not an active volcano – just Barbie and her yosi. Oh, and while you’re at it, please call off the Al Qaeida. A lawyer can do better. Besides, hunting down bast- basket cases is my specialty.”
Oh, you know the type. They vow to give you the world, the moon, the sun. In less than a light year, they slink away with nothing but stardust and dustier excuses.
Houston , we have a problem.
You should kick them out of your system, like Pluto, erstwhile Milky Way dog. These supernova egos should be cast into a black hole – with the parting words: you suck!
Speaking of holes, my friend was left with one in place of a heart. It lies gaping in her chest, alternately filled with denial, anger, sorrow, and variants thereof, all diluted in alcohol. She had sworn off men, main cause of myocardial infarction, and in a drunken rage, wrenched out the offending and agonizing vessel in all its gory beating glory.
What was I to do, faced with the pieces? I tried this – and finally learned that just like empty promises, even the best of band-aids just don’t stick. I was desperate – anything to make her whole again. I tried this. I must’ve tried and used too much though – the curator of the Egyptian museum came around asking about my new mummy collection.
I finally sat her down for some heart to broken heart talk. I said,
“Dollface, I wish I could wish your pain away. I would do anything – trip through your torrent of tears and trek through your trail of tissue. But fixing a broken heart, a broken life, is in your hands. We live and let live, love and let love . . . rip our hearts out through our nose. Well, that’s life. And then, we get up, grow up, and move on.”
And so ladies and gentlemen, if I may, I am a girl on a mission.
