I stumbled upon a Word document from last year while I was organizing my folders on my computer, and I think I had a burst of inspiration when I wrote the following.
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I feel empty. I feel hollow, where my heart once stood,
beating, pumping blood, and giving me the precious gift of life. It is not there
anymore. Not long ago, someone tore it apart. To little shreds of emotion, and
consciousness. I don’t know why they call it heart break, when the heart is
torn, and not broken. I seem to know so little about anything anyways. There is
always a limit, always a label, always a judgment that is between my deepest
passions and me. And no matter how many times I tell myself I don’t care, late
at night it all creeps back on me when I am the most alone.
When I was little, I didn't believe in monsters that were hiding under my bed. But nowadays, as I
see myself grow, and learn new things, meet new people, I feel the monster
under my bed feeding on my experiences. I feel its existence, and I feel it
grinning with the sweet taste of revenge, because I didn't believe in it back
then, it came back to make me believe in it now. Thinking that I have a heart to feel
scared, silly monster, I was never afraid of you, I will never be.
But I fear one monster, one that is inside of me. The most
dangerous, the most lethal. It is the one that offers the risky options, the
free choices, and it's the one that leads me down the endless paths, and
builds walls to make me feel lost and empty. I am empty. My brain thinks it can
handle it, everything will be better without the heart, after all wasn't it the
heart that caused all this in the beginning? But I want my heart back. I want it back, fixed.
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Lots of dreams,
Belle