Letting Go

Who says you have to let go gracefully? Someone who never had more than half their heart in to begin with, one foot in while the other foot is on the mark, ready to run?

And who gets to define letting go anyway?Everyone is different and we don’t all let go the same way. I can only speak for myself when I say, I let go with blood on my hands, bruises across my soul, hands filled with pieces of my heart I’ll use to destroy myself with.

Then I’ll let go. Only after the tantrum thrown like a kick and scream in my heart from the throat of ugly before it knew it ever was ugly, before it knew that grace isn’t digging a grave to jump into.

Well, who knew? Not me, the one who never could love lightly with a heart beating half ass barely for the fuck of it. No. My heart pounds through my chest like a drummer inside breaking my ribs just to hear a little music, or it comes to a full stop, playing dead in the silence of not being worth the trouble of beating.

There’s no in between. There is no testing the heartstrings to hear if the sound is good enough first like try before you buy, toss aside if it’s not tuned to your liking.

I don’t have a heart like that. Never did. My heart is full speed or fuck you, not a maybe, let me think about it for a while, love you, love you not, guessing itself into a sorry, changed my mind into a no.

I don’t know how to turn feelings from on to off and walk away like I never felt anything at all, erase it, forget it, move on with silence and never speak of it again.

But some people do and for the life of me, I will never be able to understand how.

-Stephanie Bennett-Henry

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