Most of us are breathing through corrupted lungs, setting fire to our insides for fun, collecting names of all the lovers that went wrong…

We set the club, we’ll meet every Friday, we got a small place in Jane’s pub, she had a service room that she wasn’t using at the moment and that’s how we started it. Everybody, the whole gang, was lately a bit disappointed with their loves, we were determined to be practical about it, so instead of locking ourselves and send stupid drunken text trying to gain their love back, we set the club of the broken hearts, there was only one rule, only broken hearts in please.

We became like those Virginia Woolf’s, Sarah Kane’s of our generation, all broken hearts, sort of depressed but very glamourous, looking in style was really important for this club too, we couldn’t accept people who had a broken heart but no dress sense, that would have been so pointless. We wanted people to notice us, to know about all these artists with broken hearts, talent, style and beauty. That was the other thing, broken heart and ugly? Come on! No way, we have to be the beautiful ones, those who everybody wanted to be. Happiness, relationships, blah, that would all be forgotten and instead people will join the revolution of the beautiful broken hearts, it’ll be so trendy.

It was forbidden to fall in love again until we accept that it was the right time and that enough poems, stories and songs have been written to heal the soul, then the guy or girl had to come to our premises, will pass a kind of interview to see the level of emotional involvement they had and whether that was going to work.

I was the judge, I was the queen bee, the most broken one, but still the beautiful one, so cute outside but so rotten inside, I didn’t care about any of them, I just was doing this for me, it was a way to control them, this club was full of nonsense, but most surprisingly people were eager to join it and they would do anything to stay in it. It was so sad, but having all this power made me feel so good and that was my real way to heal the pain. No songs, films, poems or whatever stupid stuff they were creating, my healing was coming to see how much can you take from people when they’re in despair, how much you can influence a crowd just by knowing this, and if you’re the first to notice and play, then you become queen of everything, and that was me, the unhappy, vain and shallow queen bee of the beautiful broken hearts…



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