"One day I will see you and feel nothing" -Jessica SemaanThis is saddest, most anticipated milestone in the stages of heartbreak. When someone leaves your heart dead upon arrival, you would give anything to feel nothing, but such a wish is just that. The quaking emotions is what withholds silence, exhales, and inevitably peace. Haven't they done enough? Can't they just let you be? You scoff as your mind formulates such a question. This outburst of seemingly dramatic emotion was evoked from a poem I read from Jessica on a Sunday night, curled up on my coach, accompanied by only a cup of Irish coffee and a snoring English bulldog. She poured out her heart about a past love and how he will remain there. Her resounding theme was: it will get better. Gosh, I wanted to call her and say, "will it though?!" Then, I came to the line I quoted at the top of this post. That stopped me in my love-sick tracks. What I wouldn't give to remain slate when I run into the slew of guys that have pinched, kicked, and spit on my heart. To see him [insert the 5 or so guys that didn't deserve me to graze shoulders with them, much-less consume days, maybe months of my precious time] standing at his post at that bar I used to sip bottom shelf tequila, disguised flirtatiously with a boa of salt and watered-down limes and to have no facial expressions. To pull up next to his "truck," which really was a Dodge Durango, at a red light, see his balding head bobbing to some metal band he played for me a dozen times that I smiled politely through a pounding headache and not be phased in the slightest. To see him biking on my beach, the beach he called "lame" and questioned why I emptied my hour glass there day after day, and for me to keep treading water- keep kicking up sand and soaking up the beauty that isn't his. I want to be okay and never exhibit any indication that they affected me. They don't deserve to gloat in the power I foolishly relinquished to them. I wish I could crate them up and ship them off but I don't condone animal cruelty. I'll keep fighting for the freedom from their memory pouring over me like hot caramel over a multi-layer cake. Bake your favorite recipe of cake into 3 8'round pans. While they cool, in a saucepan, combine 1½ sticks Butter, cut into 12 pieces and softened, 1 1/2 cups Granulated Sugar, ½ cup Heavy Cream, and 1 teaspoon Vanilla on medium heat. Stir until begins to boil. In a shallow pan, put 1/2 cup Granulated sugar and stir until melted and turns a golden brown. Do not burn like they burned you. If it burns, pour on him and see how he melts like you did at one time... except this will leave more scars than he did... I know, an impossible thought. Add melted sugar to boiling saucepan and stir constantly, like thoughts of him constantly stirred within the walls of your mind for days after. Clip candy thermometer on the side of pan and wait in anticipation for his memory to fade and your caramel to reach "soft ball stage." Ha! The innuendos I could make... At the very moment it reaches soft ball stage, remove from heat and stir for two minutes.... two minutes not thinking of him or Him or HIM. Then pour out your hot emotions and caramel (about 1/3 of the mix) over the bottom layer of your 3 cakes. This time, you will have fruition and feedback from all you're pouring out. Put down the pan and spread quickly, the caramel as evenly as possible over the bottom layer: bye, Al. P.H. With all the passion and genuine concern you offered before, grab layer two of your desired flavor/recipe of cake and stack on top carameled piece. Repeat last step; same outcome, but you thought this one would be different. Once you've smoothed things out, say goodbye to CrayCray. Surely, this one will top the others. Provide as much consideration for crumbling that you did for the others but you'll soon discover the same result. Scrape the saucepan like he scraped your remaining hope and cover the top and sides of the layered emotions shed: bye, J. Shelter. You won't feel nothing, but your taste-buds will reap the benefits.
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AuthorChef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart... Archives
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