The thump.

The problem with having such an in tune heart is that you feel every emotion so much more intensely. The good thing about having such an in tune heart is that you are privileged to feel so strongly.

I know that statement won't make sense to a lot of people, but open heart changes you. For so long I feared the constant heart beat... wait. Let me explain. I can feel it. Like... it. My heart. Every single beat. I feel it pumping blood through every single vein. I hear it's pounding even in my head. I can feel every thump it makes. Every thump. It's gotten more quiet, or maybe I've grown more accustomed to it. But it's always there. Reminding me that it has been in someone's hands. Literally pumped back to life. By someone's hands. It still amazes me. Maybe I'm being a bit dramatic. Yes. I'm being dramatic.

Back to the point. What was the point? Hands. Pumping. Hearts. Emotions. Ah, yes, emotions. I hate them. Or maybe I love them. I don't know.

The point is that I got really good at quieting them. Emotions, that is. But the problem remains that I cannot quiet the thump. But perhaps it isn't a problem after all. Perhaps, through all of my attempts in quieting my emotions, I neglected my heart so that it could decide on it's own. Decide what was worthy of the thump. Because it tugs at me in this strange way, as if it's saying... "... go on... thump... allow your heart to be pumped back to life." And, I mean, I tried to quiet it... and i tried to ignore it. But thump. It's still there. And the problem with having such an in tune heart is that... no. I shouldn't talk in circles. The good thing about having such an in tune heart is that... yes. You are privileged to feel so strongly. Privileged. Because I couldn't feel... I wouldn't feel... I shouldn't feel what I do. If it wasn't real.

I don't know what I was thinking. Sorry heart. Thump on.

My tummy hurts

Sometimes I wish I could be a kid again. I miss the days where my Mom would put a bandaid on a "boo boo" that wasn't even bleeding. Just because it made me feel better.

There's really something to say about that kind of love. The love that says "I'm doing this to make you feel better even though it isn't necessary."

It must take a lot of sacrifice for parents to achieve selfless love like that. Maybe some never do. I suppose I was one of the lucky kids.

I still text my Mom when I'm sick. In fact, I just did. She didn't even ask what was wrong, she just began the response with "poor baby." You see, to her it doesn't matter the who, the what, the where, the why. All that matters is me, and my well being.

Wouldn't it be beautiful if everyone loved so selflessly?

In my weakest moments I'm reminded of my strongest bonds. The people I turn to when I feel helpless, alone, afraid, confused, or when I just have a tummy ache. Those are the people I love the most.

I hope I tell them that enough.