Museum of Broken Relationships
April 10, 2008The Museum of Broken Relationships.
A sanctuary of heartache open in Croatia. Dozens of objects are on display, like letters, love tokens, t-shirts, even a prosthetic leg sent in by the lovelorn. Each is complete with descriptions regarding the failed romance. (One particular terse description of a little Nokia reads “It was 300 days too long. He gave me his mobile phone so I couldn’t call him any more.”) The founders say “it could be therapeutic for those with broken hearts.” Maybe. Or it could turn into a giant tearfest for the emotionally fragile.
I suppose there’s a certain amount of therapy in putting your personal life on display. Like weeping in front of a gaggle of strangers at the local mall’s food court when Celine Dion cries:
alllllllllll by myself
don’t wanna be
alllllllllllll by myself
anymore !
At least in the museum there’s anonymity. Hmmmm…I wonder what I’d donate? A few of his eye lashes. A lock of hair I keep in my gold, heart-shaped locket. Nah. I don’t think I could part with that. But I’d like to see what other people dug out of their closets. A trip to the museum would satisfy the voyeur in me I keep under wraps by refusing to let her watch reality TV. (I do allow the occasional jaunt to Post Secret.)
Give your entire life. Lay down. We have nothing that we weren’t given. I lost the best woman I have ever met. That is when it made perfect sense to me that God said that He is a Jealous God. That was when I became alive.
Uh . . . or just send something to the museum and get over it. No need to boil your existence down to a knee-jerk reaction.