After tonight's events and shenanigans I found myself driving on the very street on which my heart became retarded. That is to say, it lost the ability to determine what it really wants, what feels right, and started developing some sort of philophobia. Is there such a word?
It was on Fremont in a shopping plaza parking lot that I let go of the person that I thought I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. When your heart decides something like that and then you force it to not act on it, it's jarring. And it leaves a scar. Its been over 3 years and im still not sure if it's healing right.
In nursing school I'm taught that the heart is body's pump, helping to move nutrients to tissues and waste away for excretion. Physiologically, I think my heart still works. The not so visceral, more emotional? structures of my heart-- that's what needs the roto-rooter and creation of alternate pathways that make up a coronary artery bypass graft (triple or quadruple bypass probably required). Maybe then I'll be in a stronger, more confident place to make decisions about love and romance.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
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