January 19, 2015: Silver Strings, Or The Surefire Way to Protect Your Heart

The girl points to her chest.

My heart isn’t here. I’ve hidden it on the other side. Protection.

Her name is Marion. She has a crooked smile, scabbed knuckles, and a hidden heart.

It just seemed like the smart thing to do, you know? Hide my heart. Just move it a few inches over. No one will be able to hurt it then.

Sometimes she take it out. There is a thin, silver string attached to it. She lets it run around in the grass at our feet.
It’s cracked and bruised. Covered in bloodied gauze.

Yeah, I’ve been hurt. Just look at the state it’s in. Geez, that’s one ugly heart…

She reaches down and gently pats it. It lets out a little mew sound.

It wasn’t hard to take out. I just pulled on this little silver string here and pop! there it was. It was such a sad sight. But we made a deal with each other. I’ll find a better place for it, and it won’t hurt me anymore.

She forces a smile. It’s empty.

I ask her if she’s okay going through life like this. If she would rather a painless life, instead of a life with love.

It’s not that I would rather live like this…it’s just, sometimes love doesn’t seem like it’s worth the pain. It’s just not enough, despite what all the songs tell you.

She picks up her heart and snuggles it. She undoes her shirt a little and opens her chest.
As she’s replacing her heart I stop her, ask her to put it in the right place, for just a second.

She’s not happy about it, but she does it and lets out a long sigh.

It just…it hurts too much. I can feel the pain. my pain. The pain I’ve caused, that I’m going to cause. I just can’t take it.

She tears open her chest and moves her heart. Her tears dry up and she begins to breathe normally again.

I kiss the top of her head and leave her, wrapping the frayed end of the silver string around her finger over and over.

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