My heart recently fell out of my ass and shattered into a million little pieces when it hit the floor.
Were it plump and fleshy like well-ripened fruit, perhaps it would have just bruised a little. But instead, my heart was frozen solid, cold as ice – as though it had spent years castaway in frigid tundra.
Too naïve to recognize the symptoms of heartache, would you believe I actually went to a hospital emergency room convinced the heart-throbbing pain in my chest was symptomatic of a heart attack?
To add insult to injury, the DJ in my head kept cueing an endless array of heart-wrenching songs that played through my mind like a broken record and initially did little to alter the soundtrack of my life. From Genesis’ “Hold On My Heart” to Celine Dion’s “Where Does My Heart Beat Now?,” I liked to “cry me a river.”
Any girl who’s had her heart broken feels my pain, but we all know these things typically get “better in time.” “Seasons change. Feelings change.” Now Mister DJ has me singing and dancing to a whole new beat. We’re “moving on and keeping strong.”