my wounded heart

…in time one only learns to live with a wound. although wound doesn’t heal at all, you get used to a part of you ache constantly and other experience distracts you from it. it is like a knife in your leg, a while later it just numbs. what I seek is that numbness. if it goes the other way it’ll become gangrenous and only after amputation you can survive. I wish to be numb. I now understand why people heavily drink after a trauma. it helps in a long term destructive way. I sleep like 10 hours a day; I wake up remembering my longing-for-him dreams. it is the emotional confusion, I find hard to cope with. do I love or do I hate him? there is a faithful/loyal dog in me (so I’ve learnt to be the right way to be) that keeps going back to his doorstep to be taken in. also there is this wild cat in me (so it feels) wanting to kill, destruct, full of rage. and there is this owl in me (I’ve found out to be the right way to be) who understands, comprehends the cowardly, tyrannical acts, who puts the other before herself so that understanding will bring peace.

my mind and heart split between those animals in me and my human has to work so that I won’t starve to death. if only I knew what’d feel good… at least better than right now.

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