Hello, My Old Heart

July 18, 2014 (3 years ago)
Posted in Blog: English | Categories: Non-Erotic | Tags: , , ,

Hello, My Old HeartIf I were to have a conversation with my heart right now, I think this is how it would probably go.

Me: Hello, my old heart. Where have you been?

Heart: I have always been inside you. Waiting for you to rediscover me and yourself again.

Me: But if you were inside me, I would've felt you beating. And yet you seemed dead.

Heart: It is because you have killed all of your emotions. But now that you have reacquainted yourself with me, I feel myself coming alive again.

Me: I rather you remain lifeless. My world's less complicated that way.

Heart: But without me, you will never feel all the joy and happiness that life has in store for you.

(See? My heart is such a hopeless romantic!)

Me: But with you coming to life would mean feeling all the emotions I would rather kept locked. Weak, it makes me.

(I felt that all-too-familiar tug. But it is true. It does feel like I have locked my heart away. The last time just hurt too much. I have always worn my heart on my sleeve. And after that last fiasco, I promised myself never again.)

Heart: But it would never ever kill you. Instead it would make you stronger and wiser for every fall you experience. For there would be more kind hearts that you could open up to that I could communicate to if you would unlock me.

(The heart makes sense… Of course it makes sense. Easy for it to say.)

Me: I have lost the key somewhere, My Old Heart. Maybe it isn't meant for you to be unlocked.

(And I remembered something that I have written months back.

“Two strangers were sitting next to each other on a park bench.

The girl - she was holding a book.
The boy - he was holding a box.
"What's that you're holding?" He asked her.
"This?" The girl held up her journal. He nodded.
"My feelings." She paused, sighed, and then continued. "I write everything down so as not to feel."
The boy nodded and became silent.
The girl noting the box he was holding asked, "What's inside the box?"
"My feelings," he replied. "I locked it all away so as not to feel."
They both wanted to forget and each took his/her own step - one unlike the other but with a common goal.”

So in a way I was both the girl and the boy.

I kept my feelings hidden in a journal and locked my heart in an imaginary box and set aside the key. Or lost the key so to speak.)

Heart: You did not lose it. I kept it within me. You just haven't searched for it far enough. And only you could use that key. Perhaps I am meant to be locked away.

(Is it just me or is this conversation with my heart is affecting me more than it should have?

Pathetic fool. I wanted to scold myself.

I’m putting more meaning into words when they’re just that — words and nothing more. Haven’t I done that before? And now even with this imaginary conversation I am having with a body part affects me so.)

Me: And locked away, you will remain, My Old Heart, until my sanity returns.

(This conversation better end soon. A part of me wanted it to.

But there’s also that part wanting to know what my heart will say next.)

Heart: If only I could shun away my other half so you would never feel pain, agony, and sadness. But this is not a perfect world and it is what it is. You have chosen to keep me locked away. But never bid me goodbye, I wish that we cross paths again. I will always be around. Farewell for now, my keeper.


I just have to hand it to the heart! Pretty impressive words.

Have you ever wanted to have that type of conversation with your own heart? It’d be pretty interesting if it were to happen, right?

This imaginary “exchange” with a vital organ was enough to get me believing there’s ho... Read More

About the Author :

Joined: April 7, 2014 (4 years old)
Writings: 48

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What is a Writer?

A good writer is also a good storyteller. He/she must ensnare the minds of the readers, trap them in a mind world that would make them believe what is happening is real, make them feel every stroke, feel every kiss, feel that final blow, and feel that explosion.


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