“There are more hearts broken in the world that can’t be mended, left unattended.” These lines of a song named Alone Again Naturally, have never left my mind since the day I heard them. In such simple words the lyricist told the listeners that the world is full of broken hearts scattered all over. So many people walk around each day with a shattered heart beating in their chests. And all of them go unnoticed and unattended.
What hurts me the most is that whenever people hear the word broken heart their mind automatically goes to love. Love isn’t the only thing that breaks your heart. Your heart breaks when you lose a family member, it breaks when you are stranded by those that were supposed to stay forever, it breaks when you are stabbed in the back by those you trusted with your life.
We meet so many people, unaware of the sorrow they carry in their heart. The girl that sat next to you on the bus was bereaved by her mother two days ago. That old man sitting in the park, his son died of a heart attack a year a ago. Your friend next to whom you sat in class today was beaten up by her father just this morning.
We are so engrossed in our troubles that we fail to see the pain that lives inside the person standing right in front of us. And they too are so accustomed to their sorrow that they learn to live with it. They live with a hole in their heart and a blankness in their eyes. The sadness becomes a part of them. It follows them like a dark cloud, that rains just on them without any warning. They could be in a class, or in the park jogging. And it rains on them, unseen by anyone around them. Leaving them drenched and exhausted. But nobody around them sees it. For the world it is just a perfectly normal day. So they carry on, drenched. Dripping with sadness, carrying on with all their might just so that they can make it through the day.
We all live with broken hearts. There are just too many broken hearts in the world and few people who care enough to mend them. Some die with the ache in their heart, without any redemption from their pain. And the most unlucky ones are those who die without their pain ever being recognized by anyone.