Sunday, 13 September 2015

The Operating Theatre.

     A healing heart has never felt such disorientated confusion as it does 3 months post break up. The numb feeling that encompasses an organ once so dominant with the ideology of someone else, now laying dormant in preparation for the next human catalyst.
     After all the heartbreak and falsified hope, unrequited love turned into passionate hate. After the slow and painful acceptance that the love will never return, that he's not coming back and once again you have been left on your own to face your replacement. Forgive it, the heart is exhausted.
     Still lingering in the infinite void between leaving love behind and discovering someone else, it is at this three month time frame that it struggles with the option of either being completely alone, detached from the magnetic attraction of what makes love so addictive. Or... does a heart need to discover a connection so pure that all others that may have graced it will be forgotten.

     I never did enjoy the healing process, my heart and head are caught up in a hospital bed, bound with slings and tubes and doctors notes. It does feel liberating to not be so broken anymore. I can feel the bones mending and molding, the sharp pain disintegrating into a numb nothingness. I can get out of this hospital bed unassisted, a few weeks earlier being so unsure of my future to even stand again. My feet have never failed me, i almost feel a raging guilt for ever doubting them or myself. I am now faced with the decision: to excuse ones self from love or be loved unconditionally?

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