Still Beating

by Jennifer Hartmann

“Unless you plan on getting a personality transplant, I assure you that Hell will freeze over before I consider you my friend.” Dramatic, but true.

I almost wish for the darkness. Most things can be masked in the dark.

“I told you her heart was still beating. As long as it was beating, she was okay.”

It’s not over yet. We’re both still alive, and as long as we’re alive, there is hope. I need to be present—stay in the moment. It’s not over.

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

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.

It was only three weeks, but it’s burned into every cell, every vein, every tainted pocket of my soul. Forever. And so is she.

“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.”

But don’t you ever try to take away the one thing you fought so goddamn hard to keep.”

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.”

My point is, no one is perfect. Everyone is a little selfish sometimes when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“It’s funny how different things look on the other side.”

Maybe someday sounds a lot like hope, and hope is all I have right now.

“Cora, sweetheart… 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.

It’s still beating. You’re still okay. And I still love you. - Dean

We can’t give our heart to another without loving our own first.

“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.”

“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.”