“You know who still write?”
The Bear next to me asked,
I said no.
He said,
“People with broken hearts, and no one to talk to.”
I said ok.
“You know who wants to read your broken words?”
The Bear growled,
I said no.
So he whispered,
“You, when your heart has stopped aching so much.”
“So, now, you write, just to one day read, what the shattered pieces of your heart, were trying to tell you.”
The Bear agrees with me. She says that sometimes it’s better to tell strangers and it’s fun to dance with strangers and it’s ok to miss a stranger, and sometimes, when you’re tired, it’s fine to be a stranger. I plan to find out if the Bear is right. She lives in my head, and sometimes she leaves, but usually she’s there. She’s a part of me.
