Punishing it.

Sometimes I get so tired that I wish to drop my bleeding heart into a plastic bag and tie up with a rope and suffocate it before it makes me feel suffocated and kill me. I want to make it realize that it is hard to feel that feeling like you are drowning in air, hard to take in that easy air.

Also I remember the times it made me feel like it was crushing the inner me into fine minced meat, then I wish to throw it into the grinder and show it how much it hurts. How scary it feels when the blood is being dripped down the floor drop by drop and it becomes all white and pale, feeling void.

Again then, I get bumped into the goodness of my heart. Remember the moments it piled up that made me warm and cozy in lonely grey winter times. How it hums joyful tunes of my favorite songs when I walk alone at the empty street or get lost in the noisy crowd. How it thumps and throbs up and down celebrating my little joys that I collect. And then I realize my heart is what makes me… what makes me different from you and others. My heart is the reason I am feeling the warmth of your voice. So now, I wish to love my heart and make it feel the feeling of being loved!images (2)

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