I think doctors got it all wrong…
They keep saying the heart is this fist-shaped, 300 grams weighting, constantly beating thing, and that is just not right. Hearts are spheres! At least mine is. My heart is a sphere, or it was when I was born. Now I’m not sure.
Let me explain you why my heart isn’t a sphere anymore.
I was born 7305 days ago. Some days earlier than I was supposed to. I remember feeling the world couldn’t go on without me, and so I kicked my way out. My heart was a sphere back then. A small one, like a ping pong ball. Spheres are perfect, and so when you’re born your heart is perfectly shaped. Everything that happened to me since somehow got into my heart through this hole it has, that I will call The Hole Through Which Things Entered, for now. Now it’s the size of a tennis ball. “It didn’t grow that much” you could say. And you would be right. But it has a lot of new things in it.
I was looking at it the other night. I found some friends in there, next to a can of condensed milk. There were a couple of physics formulae, and a lot of particles flying around. Somehow, there was a horse in there, which I recognized to be the horse that almost killed me and that I saved from dehydration. I saw a road mark where it said “Injustice” and another one with “Freedom”. There was my family too. Kind of hidden in one corner was a strange thing: it looked like it had been ripped, teared apart, and it was still healing. It had the letters ‘L’ and part of what I think was an ‘O’. I knew exactly what it was.
So in there was everything, everything I believed, everything I hated, everything I knew, everyone who was important to me. In my heart was my whole life.
Now I can begin to explain you why my heart isn’t a sphere anymore.
You see, the Hole Through Which Things Entered is a one way passage. Things are supposed to get in and not out. When something gets out of my heart, it hurts. Imagine the tennis ball, it’s like you pulled the little strings of felt just a little bit, without breaking them, just pulling them out. In my 175320 hours of life, many things got out of my heart. Some I pushed out myself because I couldn’t live with them, some took entire bits of Heart Thing (the thing that makes the heart) with them when they left. You wish it wouldn’t happen, that at least good things would stay in there forever, but that’s not how the world works. What always stays there are memories. Memories of good things. And you can live just on memories for a while; they have a supply of happiness that lasts a while, kind of like a battery. But eventually it runs out. To be happy you have to struggle to find new memories, not to take place of old ones, but to complement them.
I lost my heart once.
Just like that, it went away. I thought someone had stolen it, so I went to the police, but they couldn’t find who it was. I kept living without my heart for a few weeks. It wasn’t really living since I had no heart, but I kept going somehow. A month or two later, I found my heart in the floor. I put it back in my chest. But it was broken, it didn’t work. Someone had taken the ‘VE’ that was there before; someone burned a piece of it, cut a piece of it and broke a piece of it. It was not the same heart anymore.
I put a bandage in it and the doctor gave me some pills. My friends told me it would be all right, it would heal and start beating again. It might just take time. And they were right, it did take time, but it healed. It got different, it wasn’t the same anymore, but it was beating! In fact, it was stronger now, bigger. I had a better heart now. I learned so much from losing my heart. I learned that I can’t like things without it, and I can’t really feel them. To lose my heart made me realize how important it is to feel, to connect with something in the deepest of levels, to really love something. My life is what it is now because… wait… my life is worth it because I have loved. As simple as that.
So that’s it. Everything that happened to me, within these 631152000 seconds I’ve walked the Earth, did something to my sphere-shaped heart. Some things more than others, but they all did. They molded it, shaped it, broke it and glued it back together. What I learned?
Twenty years ago, my heart was a sphere. Now it isn’t anymore. Want to know what happened?
Life happened.
They keep saying the heart is this fist-shaped, 300 grams weighting, constantly beating thing, and that is just not right. Hearts are spheres! At least mine is. My heart is a sphere, or it was when I was born. Now I’m not sure.
Let me explain you why my heart isn’t a sphere anymore.
I was born 7305 days ago. Some days earlier than I was supposed to. I remember feeling the world couldn’t go on without me, and so I kicked my way out. My heart was a sphere back then. A small one, like a ping pong ball. Spheres are perfect, and so when you’re born your heart is perfectly shaped. Everything that happened to me since somehow got into my heart through this hole it has, that I will call The Hole Through Which Things Entered, for now. Now it’s the size of a tennis ball. “It didn’t grow that much” you could say. And you would be right. But it has a lot of new things in it.
I was looking at it the other night. I found some friends in there, next to a can of condensed milk. There were a couple of physics formulae, and a lot of particles flying around. Somehow, there was a horse in there, which I recognized to be the horse that almost killed me and that I saved from dehydration. I saw a road mark where it said “Injustice” and another one with “Freedom”. There was my family too. Kind of hidden in one corner was a strange thing: it looked like it had been ripped, teared apart, and it was still healing. It had the letters ‘L’ and part of what I think was an ‘O’. I knew exactly what it was.
So in there was everything, everything I believed, everything I hated, everything I knew, everyone who was important to me. In my heart was my whole life.
Now I can begin to explain you why my heart isn’t a sphere anymore.
You see, the Hole Through Which Things Entered is a one way passage. Things are supposed to get in and not out. When something gets out of my heart, it hurts. Imagine the tennis ball, it’s like you pulled the little strings of felt just a little bit, without breaking them, just pulling them out. In my 175320 hours of life, many things got out of my heart. Some I pushed out myself because I couldn’t live with them, some took entire bits of Heart Thing (the thing that makes the heart) with them when they left. You wish it wouldn’t happen, that at least good things would stay in there forever, but that’s not how the world works. What always stays there are memories. Memories of good things. And you can live just on memories for a while; they have a supply of happiness that lasts a while, kind of like a battery. But eventually it runs out. To be happy you have to struggle to find new memories, not to take place of old ones, but to complement them.
I lost my heart once.
Just like that, it went away. I thought someone had stolen it, so I went to the police, but they couldn’t find who it was. I kept living without my heart for a few weeks. It wasn’t really living since I had no heart, but I kept going somehow. A month or two later, I found my heart in the floor. I put it back in my chest. But it was broken, it didn’t work. Someone had taken the ‘VE’ that was there before; someone burned a piece of it, cut a piece of it and broke a piece of it. It was not the same heart anymore.
I put a bandage in it and the doctor gave me some pills. My friends told me it would be all right, it would heal and start beating again. It might just take time. And they were right, it did take time, but it healed. It got different, it wasn’t the same anymore, but it was beating! In fact, it was stronger now, bigger. I had a better heart now. I learned so much from losing my heart. I learned that I can’t like things without it, and I can’t really feel them. To lose my heart made me realize how important it is to feel, to connect with something in the deepest of levels, to really love something. My life is what it is now because… wait… my life is worth it because I have loved. As simple as that.
So that’s it. Everything that happened to me, within these 631152000 seconds I’ve walked the Earth, did something to my sphere-shaped heart. Some things more than others, but they all did. They molded it, shaped it, broke it and glued it back together. What I learned?
- Your heart is stronger than you might think at first, and it will always heal, if you give it time.
- Sometimes it’s hard when your heart wants something but the rest of your body’s fighting it away.
Twenty years ago, my heart was a sphere. Now it isn’t anymore. Want to know what happened?
Life happened.
1 comment:
You truly have a way with words. I will be coming back to read more.
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