Still Beating

by Jennifer Hartmann

And I always put the toilet paper roll in the ‘over’ position.

“As long as it’s beating, you’re okay.”

Life is intoxicating when you’re on the brink of death, day after day.

He’s not worth another second of my life. We won

We are bound, chained, tied—to our trauma and to each other. We’re in this together. And yet, I’ve never felt more alone.

“Every love story is worth writing, no matter how messy it might be,” Holly says absently, still stroking my hair. “I would like to read your book.”

My whole life I’ve been terrified of the ocean. I’ve been scared of being dragged down into a cold, dark sea, swallowed by waves, clutching my chest and gasping for air. But this sea is not made of water. And maybe drowning is the only way out.

You can’t tiptoe around your heart in fear of pissing people off or hurting their feelings. Sometimes we need to be a little selfish in order to avoid a life of complacency.”

“I wish you fought for me as hard as you fought to get out of that basement.”

love doesn’t exist without sacrifice. Sometimes those sacrifices are waking up ten minutes early to make your partner coffee. Sometimes it’s taking on a second job to support your family. Sometimes it’s staying up all night with a newborn so your significant other can finally sleep. Sometimes it’s shoveling the other person’s car out of the driveway after a snowstorm.” She places her palm against my wet cheek and smiles softly. “And sometimes it’s making the ultimate sacrifice and walking away for the greater good.”

Maybe love is singing her favorite song in the dark, just so she can sleep. Maybe love is giving away the shoes on your feet to help keep her warm. Maybe love is coming over in the middle of the night when the power goes out because you know she’s afraid of the dark. And maybe love is walking away because it’s the only way she’ll find the light again.

“Just get better. There’s no shame in the struggle, but you can’t stay there forever. We’re all here for you.”

We can’t give our heart to another without loving our own first. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.

You need to get laid, girl. You’ve been in vagina limbo.”

“Corabelle… that was me fighting for you. That was me fighting for your healing, your joy, your smile, your laughter… your beautiful, broken spirit. I never stopped fighting for you and I never will.”

Like my savior. After all, he saved me from a serial killer. He saved me from an overdose. He saved me from myself.

“Are you still mine?” Cora doesn’t hesitate. She reaches for my hand, placing it above her heart. “It’s still beating,” she says. Her face lights up with a radiant smile that looks exactly like how her heartbeat feels. “As long as it’s beating, I’m yours.”

And on the count of three, we rush into the ocean, tears mixing with laughter, love swelling higher than the tide, and we jump into the water. Together.