Everything I do here feels like the last one. That's how I enjoy all of them. That's how the anger is kept on watch. The parties, the trips, the singing, the movie-watching, the cooking, the eating, the cleaning, the lovemaking, and the fucking, I should extend that philosophy to all moments, no exceptions. But the more I stay, I feel like staying a little more. I forget everything that assured me to leave; I begin to doubt all the proof so concretely piled up heavy in my head. But the heart... That's when he comes to help, stirring the muddy waters of my emotions, exhuming the almost faded, untrusted memories, and replaying the same chords on different octaves. I feel lost and blank, in limbo; neither in the cacoon nor outside, but caught up halfway out, on its own sticky walls. Death is tough. Especially the kind where you are both the dying and the mourner. That feels like the most humanely painful thing for a self. It's a fresh hell for an empath: a volcanic ...
The pace of days is fast. I am barely holding all the pieces together; they have broken into such small pieces, I feel them almost falling off through my fingers. But I tighten the grip, telling myself, "One day at a time, Nimna." How can one make wrong decisions with such enthusiasm, I have no idea. But here I am, dangling from a cliff of enthusiastically-made bad decisions. Every ounce of my energy goes into holding on to this one thing that supports me right now, trying not to fall off and die. Although, it gets increasingly tempting. It is easy to let go, to loosen this grip, to fall. The primitive urge for survival and that god-forsaken curiosity wouldn't let me take the easy way out. I want to know what will happen. In this in-between space, I look over my shoulder a lot, and I cannot believe how mind-numbingly stupid I have been. I called that being rebellious and fighting for the freedom of life, but those were just hollow headings I've bestowed upon shitty ch...
No matter how high up above or buried deep your heart is, no matter how cold the winds blow around you, your heart remains warm. She churns and melts rocks. She glows red and orange and steams. That's the power of your heart. It's broken and cracked into pieces but stays intact. It's through those cracks that you can see and feel the warmth and power of your own heart. If not, all you will find is hardened lava rock on the surface. So allow your heart to break once in a while. That's where you expand and make new land.
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