The Heart and Its Breakers

    Today, the question of the heart stands: to jump or not to jump? In the end, you risk the breaking. How very original of me, I know. But still, the question stands. I've read somewhere (cough cough John Green's An Abundance of Katherines cough cough) that there are two types of people in the world. There are the Dumpers, and there are the Dumpees. At some point, we all fall into at least one of these categories. Some humans of many names and varying degrees of attractiveness are shall we say blessed? with an uncanny knack for breaking a heart... and getting away with it over and over and over and over again. Others, well, they're usually the ones who write gut-wrenching poetry, tear jerking love songs, and tragic odes to unrequited love whilst scraping the remains of their crushed souls off the walls. And then you have the rest of the population, laying everywhere and anywhere and often in multiple places in between. Basically, humans eventually know what its like to feel like your heart isn't working right; instead of pumping oxygen to your muscles, it pumps your every flaw, every mistake, every wonderfully murderous memory through your veins and straight to your soul. Yay for our magnificent anatomy. 
     So, if we, the Dumpee population, know just how much heartbreak sucks, why do we still want to put our hearts on the line? Why do we stare up at the ceiling at night imagining the stars above us, whose eyes twinkle with the answers they can never tell, and say, "I wish I could find love," ? Or, is that just me?




Hey! Feel free to discuss in the comments :) I'd love to hear from you all!