*
I'm staring up at the ceiling, listening to my heart beat. It sounds loud in my ears, the surge rising and falling in time with my breathing. I'm sure I'd look ridiculous to a passerby, lying completely still in a sprawled heap, the stethoscope running from my ears to my own chest.
It's midnight again.
It's good to know that there is one thing about me that is relatively constant, that won't shift with every changing mood, something that will always be sounding in my ears every single moment of my life. Steady.
Do you know what it's like when your own body betrays you? The moment your heart begins to skip furtively, erratically, and every cell and nerve catch their breath and freeze, focused on that faltering beat, willing it onward, ever onward, until it continues as it ever did.
Emotions do that, too.
They trip me up. There's that same rise and fall, these colors that stain everyday life and make it rich and vibrant, and the tide that carries them. Highs and lows, they're all familiar.
But emotions aren't always welcome. Some are ugly enough to make me catch my breath and freeze, willing them away, ashamed at them, rejecting the dark nature of such things. But you can't do that, can you? Emotion doesn't work that way. You can work with it, and around it, and sometimes reason it down to something manageable. But you cannot reject it altogether.
I've spent enough time wrestling with myself in dark playgrounds and shadowed roads to accept this. It sounds right, somehow, but every once in a while I find myself right back on those swings, in the dark, struggling. Waiting for something. And probably -sighs- dramatizing this just a bit much.
So. It's past twelve on a Friday night, and I'm tired, and it's too quiet. Lately I've been something of an insomniac...still waiting, I suppose. I tend to make my surroundings fit what I feel, and this time of night just about does it. Everybody has their own demons, and this is when mine come out to play. But, I think I'll fight it tonight. After all, I've got a good imagination, and I might as well put it to use.
*Caution--content may be disjointed and sloppy to to intrusion of stethoscope between keyboard, fingers, and brain.
2 comments:
This says many things I have often thought.
Well said. :-)
Two days ago, for no reason that I could tell, I felt terrible for thirty seconds. I cried in public during a prayer. Two minutes later it was like it had never happened.
I'm only telling you this because I assume it will somehow help. If it doesn't, feel free to ignore.
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