THOSE I CALL MINE

There is a set of people I like to call my own. As in strictly mine, but I'm willing to share them with others only because the world needs to see the wonder that is these people. They are my family in more ways than one. I've known some of them all my life, half of my life, the past few months, since the previous life (if there was one) and some, well it feels like forever.
These people probably have absolutely nothing in common, and they may not strike u as amazing, but I think they are extremely awesome. I may not see or speak with them for a while, we may be thousands of kilometres apart, but truth be known, our connections never dwindle. One call or a five minute conversation and it feels like we have been living next door to each other forever.
To all who I call my friends, I love you. Those who went through schools, trainings and experiences with me. All who I met along my way on the journey through life, whether in the gene pool, beside french school,on the queue in the cafeteria, when I was outside my home country, or through other people. Those of us who sat through classes together, beauty competitions, parade and freezing temperatures, I can't imagine how my life would be right now without you.
I can't help being stunned at the way you all accept me in spite of myself. I cherish my independent relationships with you, and I won't replace anyone of you with another.
So today, to all those I proudly call my friends, I'm saying I love that I know and love you. I am honoured to call you MINE.

REMEMBER THE FIRST TIME?

Can you remember the first time your heart broke? I hear it’s a feeling as indescribable as most. Maybe broken doesn't describe the feeling well at least not physically. Sometimes it feels like your heart decides that it’s not pumping enough blood into your body so at that very point it’s like it squeezes itself in order to get as much blood around as possible. Sometimes when your heat breaks it’s not your heart that tells you what is wrong, your lungs somehow believe it’s their job to do this, so they stop accepting air. Or maybe your nose won’t cooperate with them any more.

And other times, your heart breaking may lead to a full system shut down. They often refer to it as being numb. I think that comes in two ways, there’s active and well the other type of numb. The active numb, I think is very scary. Your heart got broken, and then you work on and on and on and on and on and try to live and live and live and live, like NOTHING HAPPENED. Nice well done, don’t know about it that much and I guess it works. In some cases I guess the broken hearted even becomes more active than usual, probably good when your boss is a slave driver, may get u a raise. And the other type of numb, well it’s different. You do absolutely nothing. Everything happened, so you do nothing, you’ve lost all feeling, totally and completely emotionless. You refuse to work, or to live or to smile, and in certain cases, you refuse to bath or be clean or to even clean.

Regardless of how your heart breaks, there is always a very first time. This first time is different from all the other hurts you have ever felt. The pain you felt when you weren't picked as a prefect in school, or the pain you felt when your friend seemed to like the new class mate a little more than they liked you. It actually beats the pain of healing from your first surgery or that snake bite that could have taken your life. This very first heartbreak, takes all these past little and big hurts, compresses them in to a box, finds extra pain from somewhere in the universe and seals them in a box. Then this box is open, on the very floor of your heart. You hoped to see a jack-in-the-box, but you got pain instead.

It didn’t register at first, or maybe you denied it for as long as you could. But it hurt. It hurt more than you ever thought possible. And then you promised. You made an earth changing vow like the rest of us, never to be made to feel that way again. That you'll never let anyone have that type of power over you.

Time passes and a few little hurts later, you give your heart away again. To another mortal, another human. Aren’t you frightened because it was a mortal, a human that broke your heat the first time? So this new one does not get a perfect and brand new heart, but one that has been scarred, and has its pieces glued back together by time and determination.

And when I ask if you remember the first feelings of heartbreak, you answer “Yes I do. But do you remember the first feelings of love?” There and then I rest my case, and only hope I can find the courage to remember the love more than the hurt. Hope I can understand that certain persons won’t return my love, ever, but I still have every right to love again. That I can understand that no matter how much it hurts, love is always worth the first heartbreak.