Wrapped around my heart is a string of knots. Each knot is specially tied, one of a kind. Sometimes they are untied, and sometimes new ones are put in their place. And sometimes old knots become undone, just to be retied a year or two later. It’s been said that I never do something without reason, and it’s true. When I decide its time for one to come undone, my heart cracks just a bit. And my mind goes in circles, wondering. It doesn’t like losing knots, especially those that become weathered with time. I’ve gotten better at the untying process, and it certainly isn’t as painful as it used to be. I’ve discovered that sometimes in order for new ones to be added, some need to be let go. But I should think that there will always be a kink in the string, leftover from where one used to be.
There is one knot that has been slowly untying itself for a while now. I tried to retie it, I’ve tried over and over again. But alas, it’s too much to ask.
This one made me distraught, for it doesn’t see me, doesn’t ask about me, doesn’t appreciate the work that went into finding its place on my string.
This knot has been loose for a while now. Changing with the changing times. Becoming more ornamental than functional, losing strength. But alas, it’s too much to ask.
When the petty anger subsides, and little waves of sadness wash over me, I realize it’s time to let it go. I feel guilty for giving up on it, but knots are knots. And it takes two for them to be tied properly. And two for them to become undone.