Finishing this is like trying to get the last bit of gum out of my hair

At first it was a bright shiny pack of gum and I thought how wonderful!  I wanted to try each flavor and took my time unwrapping each stick.  With excitement and anticipation I opened my mouth welcoming each new delight not spitting out the old.  

Eventually I had a huge wad of gum in my mouth that, as time went on, became harder and harder to chew.  Then the taste that initially was so special started to fade away until I grew to dislike the taste of the mass in my mouth. 

I could no longer talk around all of the sticks of gum in my mouth so I opened wide and pulled the lump out.  My jaw hurt but having the space back in my mouth was glorious.  I rested.

I flicked the ball of goo into the trash can but some of it stuck to my fingers.  I worked hard to get it off and when I swiped at the sweat on my forehead some of it stuck to my bangs. 

I rubbed and rubbed and worked at the gum on my fingertips until each little fragment was in the trash.  I looked in the mirror searching out the last bits stuck in my hair.  With a gob of peanut butter I worked on loosing the final speck of gum.  When it finally detached from me, holding it in my fingers I stared at it remembering how good it tasted when I first popped it in my mouth and how glad I now was to finally be rid of it. 

I flicked that in the garbage, too, and turned on the kitchen faucet to wash my hands of you.

Barefooted

Is it better to have loved and lost?  Do we crave that closeness, companionship, and touch so much that we are willing to put ourselves out there time and time again?  How many scars does it take for a heart to have trouble beating?  Does the drive to love and be loved back push us and move us to action or do we resist?  And, if we resist, does it cripple us?

http://www.heart.org/HEARTORG/Conditions/More/Cardiomyopathy/Is-Broken-Heart-Syndrome-Real_UCM_448547_Article.jsp

We can literally die from a broken heart. I have read about this and although science comes up with some really mind blowing new things, the poets and the playwrights have always known this.  The grieving half of what was once a whole have always known it.  Science has finally proven it.  Facts instead of prose.

If we have always known it, why do we take the chance?  Why did you take the chance?  To fulfill your own needs?  To make life better, more fulfilling?  To have a family?

Was it by chance?  Did it sneak up on you when you weren't looking?  Some fall in love and some make a decision based upon pros and cons, future plans, and calculations.

Love is tricky.  Defining it is impossible as language can only try to communicate what fills one's heart.  Who we love and how we love are varied and some stand in judgment of others.

One may look at a shoe and describe how it looks, how it works, and for what it is used but until one puts on the shoe one cannot describe how it feels.

Some of us keep trying on different shoes seeking the right pair and as we sit in our chairs we become surrounded by discarded shoe boxes filled with pairs that weren't right, weren't comfortable. Some of us are determined none will do while others are happy with the first pair just knowing that one day they will be broken in and comfortable.

Some are happy to walk through life barefooted.  Is it better to have loved and lost?