Expensive Gifts

I was depressed yesterday and broke someone's heart.  I worked and did not laugh, and when it was time to log off, I sat with my sister for the evening until my eyelids were so heavy I could not keep them opened.  I thought a lot about what other people were doing, one person in particular, and about the cruel games we play with each other.
It's all sort of ridiuculous and lonely, but we continue down this path called love, don't we?  I understand that a lot of people don't go through this, that a lot of people are just fine pretty much all the time, and that a lot of people are happy and don't worry about half the shit that goes through my head. 
But I know that this can turn into a positive thing, that all this heartache and miscommunication and turmoil and whatever else I could call it will sooner or later be over with, and that something very beautiful, perhaps poignant and heartbreaking, can come from it.  I picked up a book about creativity, a workbook, last night but I was too tired to read more than a couple of pages, and way too tired to start on an exercise.  I fell fast asleep with the book in my hand and the pen somewhere under the covers.  I hope I don't have ink stains on my sheets - they were an expensive gift from someone that can't afford expensive gifts.  I makes me think about the price we pay for certain things.  I just hope it's worth it.