Rejection.

As the term dejection comes to mind, rejection arrives to heart. Two young lovers, so full of innocence, so deprived of logical knowledge at this moment, one filled so much with tears and the other yearning to break free from the guilt-constructed chains of lifeless intimacy. The heart-breaker breaks the news, spills the beans and tea, grasping for the scissors and working away at the string which bonds the pair together, cut by cut. Desperate for a reason, for another chance, for an explanation, the heart-maker pleads and cries with a chest full of questioning dejection and lunges towards the scissors of rejection, hands bleeding with curdling affection. As the final slash destroys the chains, the breaker spreads the tight wings of remorse and flies into the winds of non-committal freedom. The rejected, rejected, unprotected soul with half a heart gone, slowly walks uphill the path of recovery into the stormy light of later life. Decades pass, and the lone heart fills and heals with the warmth of another, which takes a sharp turn into bitter, sour, cold states. The eternal bond of marriage ceases to exist after years of love and protection by the frustrated significant other who wants so much more than this life, who pleads and begs and wishes to run off to their true calling, away from this storm of a marriage that had granted so much happiness at first, but had deteriorated into confusing nothingness. Agitated with guilt, the spouse with no more feelings leaves nothing behind but a stack of heart-shattering papers with words typed in emotionless, black ink, signed with handwriting that the heart-broken, who now again is recognizing this guttural, depressed, feeling from years before, thought that they had known so extremely well. Eternities later, the warrior broken of love and filled with wallowing deject-filled rejection, the lover of a new human mends their torn heart, each ripped seam of the past stitched with intimacy of their pure, untouched, soulmate for whom they have waited an entire lifetime for, the past two lovers admitting only as obstacles in the great journey of life. Although old in age, the pair are young and free with each other. But alas, even with love everlasting and immortal, physical age cannot keep up. The person who had fixed and cradled the broken other in the last few years of life perishes into the next life, the afterlife, the non-existence, nothing. This unbeknownst rejection of age and health too strong for one to handle physically was to much for the other to handle mentally in an entirely different body and perishes an hour, a day, a thousand years later, draining themself of loss, dejection, rejection. There is no exact moral to this awful tale, but a point. For each life has as much a vivid and complex story as another, some are unfortunately filled with the destruction of rejection, especially in the form of love.