The Good, The Bad, The Ugly...

There are countless moments in life, good ones and bad ones, ones we don't want to forget, and ones that we wish we could.
There are times you fall and catch yourself in time to prevent any serious damage, there are times when you find yourself on the ground crying, not from the pain as much as maybe some embarrassment (who are really proud of those moments?) and feelings of shame as though no one else has ever made a mistake which makes you that worthless, that bad, when in actuality you've just never seen it or forget it easily with others. Which is not a bad thing, you forget it the way they wish to, but you also forget that they likely forget it the way you wish to. At least that's how it goes with me.
When you think about it, I suppose it's good that way. Let me explain it this way, if a child gets hurt by falling off...say the couch...are they not more careful not to do that. If the child forgets, is it not more likely to happen again, the same way?

Then there are those moments when you're lying on the ground looking at your heart beside you, crushed, bleeding, it's beat slowing, and you're wondering why you gave it out in the first place. You go over in your mind how you got there, trying to figure out why it happened, and there's no way to compare it to the feelings of when you simply fall. You hurt, bleed, cry, may get upset with yourself, not understanding, angry that you did not see it, trying to figure out how to never let it happen again. But really you're just hoping that you can gather it up, piece it back together, hope it still works, that someday you will understand, and that someday you'll see it wasn't "all for nothing". Maybe even hoping to find that it wasn't because you were worthless, that you would someday be good enough.
It feels like you're the only one that fell that hard, and you're the only one that sees every scar on it, sees the mess it is. So of course it makes you feel ugly, worthless, "Who would want a heart like mine, scarred and ugly.". When you look at it under a magnifying glass, trying to undo the damage bit by bit with more added by the day, you see all the scar tissue from the cuts that need removed, and there, with it magnified, it really does look like the ugliest heart. You think to yourself, "Who would drop a beautiful heart. Those are rare. If I were beautiful, valuable, this wouldn't have happened.".

But the truth of it is, who of us can truly see the heart of another, let alone fully understand ours? Who of us can truly see all the scars? Who of us can never drop or at the least cut a heart? Who of us wear our hearts outside of our barriers for everyone to see the scars, instead of trying to hide the scars and convince ourselves we're like the ones around us we think are so perfect? Or some may try to look for all the flaws with others to convince themselves they're not so bad off, to feel like they have more value, that there's nothing wrong with them, it's everyone else.
Most of us try to hide it and undo the damage and protect it from the cuts. So really, there's only one person that can really see the heart, fully understand all of the damage done, and how best to undo it; to repair the heart. Yes, it beats again, it runs. Isn't it something when a heart can be crushed, put back together, and still beat? The world may argue that it's useless, you don't need it. But they're wrong,  you can't survive without it. Who better to help mend it than the one that truly sees it.
I suppose I needed to sort this out and come to this realization, having found myself there, on the ground, staring at my ugly heart, hating myself for being so difficult to put together, and hold together, for all of my flaws and feeling like such an ugly duckling when I long to be a beautiful swan like the ones around me.
At times like these, I have to keep in mind a man I very much admire, who had went through much more than just this, and held to his integrity, did not give up, and said should we merely accept what is good and not also what is bad?
We live in a harsh environment, that seeks to consume the heart, and fill it with lead to weigh it down and sink it; to stop it from beating. There's going to be pain, frustration, errors, things we truly wish we could change, times we truly want to forget, periods we truly hope to survive but wonder if we will, and moments we wonder why we're even here or alive. 
There's going to be broken hearts in this world, even crushed. That's what it does. As much as we try to reasonably avoid these or the bulk of them as best we can, as we should, they're going to happen to some degree. 
Whether we do it to ourselves, or whether things happen that we don't fully understand. It's so easy to forget that you can't see all the scars, that there are manifestations of that tissue from heavier scars, the closer you get, the more you see, but you can't just see it all. 
So you're heart gets broken, just like others, it gets cuts and bruises again and again, just like others, maybe even crushed at times, just like others. But it has to be mended, just like others. You have to take a moment, get up, and keep moving, not give up, even when you want to, right? The secret to living, to mending it, and breathing again, is to see the one who knows the heart the best. Is it not?

Perhaps you can relate to some of this, or not, they were more expressions of recent feelings, experiences, and reminders or resolves, with the assumption that they can be related to at least in part by some readers.

This is just an attempt to make sense of this noise in my head.