I am responsible for my own broken heart, as well as the shattered pieces of others that I’ve loved and whose hearts I maimed with my own selfishnes... and wanting. The following is a complicated story, but if you read it you shall be rewarded. Pick up the pieces with me, as I revisit my dark and forlorn past. —- Impulsive. There’s one word—something that I do not appear to be, although I am. I thought as I sat unobtrusively on the stool of a bar, wishing I had more single friends to get. I had answered the door and there she was. Yet another girl at my door, though there seemed to be something a bit different about her. The winter wind had whipped her long blonde hair into a disorderly mess that she didn't seem to notice. Her horn-rimmed glasses, taped together across the nose-piece, sat crookedly on her face, which was devoid of any makeup. Her long insulated coat was buttoned wrong, having one extra button at the top and an extra hole at the bottom. Her mittens, clutching a. More

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