My heart is a ball of rubber bands that live in my chest. This elastic heart’s muscle memory is confused, frustrated and a tad amnesic. Without permission, it looks back for traces of compassion and the comforts it once knew. I can feel it solidifying, the piece of me that was once there, thriving and vibrant, now concentrated, bottled up and stored away, to slowly petrify within and turn to stone. Then it becomes heavier. And heavier still.
No amount of corrective behavior or conditioning can prepare a heart distended. Allowing it to flourish, grow and mature will cause permanent change.
It is not hallow but it is never full. Internally, it’s complicated and it’s anxious. It only knows where it has already been. With little knowledge or foresight, the dense reality of yesterday loses its buoyancy, sinks, and becomes another part of a foundation that makes me who I am. The beautiful moments will rise to furnish and repurpose the space that once held an entire reality – an entire person; it’s only claim to consciousness. It is unaware, my elastic heart.