A Broken Jar of Hearts

Today is your day.

Now is the time when you are at your lowest, and I watch you helplessly as you cried yourself to sleep. I listened as you poured your heart out, seeking comfort and reassurance. Lying by your side on the green mattress as we spoke nonsense into the depth of the night, I can only imagine the amount of pain you are going through.

Moscow is cold. Literally, and metaphorically. And I regretted that she welcomed you this way; bitterly and unforgiving.

Life is unfair, but I wondered why Fate has chosen now to end your four year long relationship. And I questioned why Time had chosen this moment for you to discover that he had another love within his heart. This moment when you are most fragile, when you are at your lowest.

At this point of time, I can only offer my shoulder for you to cry on.

Mother Russia, she’s not unkind and unforgiving. She’s a patriot of strength and will. She brought me up into this person I am.

She taught me the pain of loss, and helped me heal with the presence of God.

She whispered to me the meaning of friends and loyalty, because at the moment of my despair, I seek comfort from the hands that are linked with mine, bonded by the love of God. Until that moment, I never knew that there were so many hands supporting me from the back.

She told me to be independent, that there is nothing I cannot do on my own. Because she said that men are beasts, and that human are sinners.

So as I wiped your tears away, I told you what I thought was best.

I told you that giving up is the easiest and the least painful option.

But I also said that I think you should fight, because four years did not just pass by in a blink of an eye. If you really treasure those memories, then you should protect what is dear to your heart.

I told you, the pain of being let go without a fight, because that was what I have been through. I went through the despair of losing a battle without a fight. It’s true it hurt less, but despair is worse than pain. A wound can be healed, but despair leaves no wound, so there is nothing to heal. But you feel it all the same, deep down, nagging and biting at your conscience.

Hugging you tight at passport control, you thanked me over and over again. I feel no need for that.

Today, I feel your pain. Who knows in future, you would feel mine.