Choosing Hiatus

“That is why it is so important to let certain things go. To release them. To cut loose…Don’t expect to get anything back, don’t expect the recognition for your efforts, don’t expect your genius to be discovered or your love to be understood…Stop being who you were and become who you are.”

            For three weeks now, she’s scrutinizing her heart as somebody stole it from her chest—crushed it, stepped on it and ripped it on the open. She saw it bleed until no more viscous blood gushed from the poor organ and it went pallor.

            She does not blame that person.

            She’d rather blame herself for being vulnerable, for letting that person snatch the organ that keeps her alive. She could have guarded it.

            She’s still on the process of picking up the fragments of her heart and vascularizing the bruised, contused, and battered organ.

            She does not deny the presence of pain, for pain makes her human. This excruciating experience may be an indicative of growth. Awareness of its presence is at the same time reducing it and gradually letting it go.

            Her world’s may be gloomy these past three weeks, but she’s optimistic that the sun will shine on her again to nurture her heart so it can return to its place and start beating again.

            She presently chooses to dwell into the state of hiatus especially in circumstances that involves the fragile heart. She chooses to preserve her heart.

“In the words of a Persian sage: Love is a disease no one wants to get rid of. Those who catch it never try to get better, and those who suffer do not wish to be cured”