Heart

Hurt. Hurt. hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt so hurt I can barely think. My chest feels like it has a hole inside, my mind gives in to any thought and any whim, I seem to have lost almost all will and effort to accomplish anything at all. Along with my sleepless state and tired demeanor, I seem to sway, driven completely by the inertia of my body, and whatever's left of my mind - my spirit seems to have gone on sleep mode or worse.

I'm beginning to distinguish the patterns of heartache as it spawns and develops. Mental understanding, mental justification, and then assimilation starts. As this assimilation starts, I begin to feel something different inside of me, a little tickle in my chest, a tiny churning in my stomach, but everything's fine, I tell myself. It's just that, it happened, I knew this could've happened, so I shouldn't distress at the situation. It's fine.

And then, the tickle in my chest extends to my stomach, and the thoughts of her begin to invade my mind. A little at first, and I portray dismissal to myself, avoiding the subject as something to be evaded, better left alone. But despite the dismissal, despite the genuine intended nonchalance, more thoughts of her seep in. More and more, and it becomes harder and harder to dismiss them, having less thought cycles to work with as she becomes the inevitable subject of my focus.

As her thoughts invade my mind, I realize each of them hits that aching hole in my chest with relentless stings, and without my permission, my mind has become a torture chamber for my heart.

Then my head starts to tickle too, or more precisely to feel shaky, feverish, though it's hard to discern other feelings besides the hits on my chest - stinging, dull, empty, incessant like the beats of my heart, which are now much more frequent and obvious than before.

And as all my focus and energy is desperately, uselessly bent towards you, my body becomes all but utterly useless to accomplish tasks that commonly would require the slightest conscious effort. But all consciousness is now bent unto you, and my body is left in a standby/survival mode, obeying habit and reflex to at least move around and keep breathing, while my mind compulsively plays and rewinds my love and my hurt for you, in simultaneous torturous dissonance. It plays the sharpest and most horrid shreak of emotion, and my heart tears to its beat over and over and over and over without escape, without a chance to patch or alleviate itself. That is how my heart aches.

And the outlet I manage to direct my pain towards is this right here: this text, these words, these letters, this typing on my tiny keyboard. I yank my emotions from the deepest region of myself my mind has access to, and I spit it out, blotch by painful blotch, out onto this digital pile of emotional junk, trying to empty myself of this painful confusion. I feel moderately successful so far.

G yddp pgvd rpdahglu tsf ks odvglhpd tsfo yddpglu; yso mde G am ;kgpp kjd ;amd rdo;slw kjd sld tsf ydpp gl ps.d ,gkj alh kjak ydpp gl ps.d ,gkj tsfe Kjd ;amd rdo;slw kjd ;amd yddpglu; G jsph yso tsfw kjd jarrt alh iaodyodd uft tsf mdk sl kjd ;koddk; sy :al Cs;d g; kjd ;amd rpdahgluw dlamsodhw apndgk lsk'a;'mt;kdogsf;'altmsod uft kjak ls, ;dlh; tsf jg; lavdh ;dpy a; nd;k jd ial malaud gl jg; glcfodh ;kakde Odmdmndo sfo maugiap msmdlk; ksudkjdow pdkq; iodakd msod sy kjdm ksudkjdo!

Nfk G hslqk ;dd js, rpdahglu ,sfph ,sov ' yddpglu; aod lsk isdoidhw oakjdo kjdt yps, ,jdod.do kjd og.do rfpp; kjdm kse G ialqk ndu tsf ks od.do;d tsfo ;kodamw G ialqk mavd tsfo rssp; sy kjd rod;dlk yapp naiv fr kjosfuj kjd ,akdoyappe Nfk G ndu tsf ks kavd md a; tsfo ismralgsl gl tsfo frismglu yps,;e Gl kjd;d mdod k,s ,ddv; aykdo ,d raokdh ,d ja.d nskj ijaludhw alh G ,alk ks ;dd tsfo ijaludh ;dpy gy tsf aod ,gppglu ks ;dd mglde Kdpp md ,jak tsf yddpe