Waiting for the bus, I suddenly became aware of the insistent drumming occurring within the confines of my chest. Protected by a cage of skin, bones and sinew, my heart has been beating timidly, frailly, uncertainly, for the last two years. But today it is beating happily, insistently, against my ribcage, making its presence known.
I can't help but feel as if my heart is something else entirely, something outside of the inside of me. This is why my heart sometimes seems to seize itself in a panic sometimes, when it seems to be racing towards something.
At night, my body likes to write love letters to you in my sleep. In the dark my body positions itself to spell out "I miss you" and "I still worry about you sometimes", my entire body aching to say the words my mind censors. In the morning my body aches when I haven't finished writing my love letters to you, stiffness from silence.
I don't love anyone. That is the reality of the world that I live in. There is no one who wants my love, no one who cares. But I love anyways, I keep myself brimming with it. I remind myself "You love", and that's enough. I don't need a body next to me, I don't need fingers to hold. I just need to love. My heart beats contentedly, I continue to write my love letters with my entire body, I continue to smile when I'm not happy.
I've got a big big big heartbeat, yeah...
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