The big talk. What would I say? How would I phrase everything so as not to frighten it right out of want for existence?
“Heart?” I might begin, “let me first tell you how wonderful and amazing you are for pumping along even after everything I put you through.” I would wipe away a ridiculous tear, already begun like a weak-willed idiot. “Really,” I’d continue, “that sure is something. Honestly, great job there.” My heart would lie, seeping and exposed, wanting to gasp for air but holding its own, as I’ve taught it so well, holding together for the sake of projection and dignity. “Now, heart,” I’d begin again, for real this time, “I want you to know, because you sure are old enough now, that things aren’t always going to be this easy.” My heart would give a little pump of attentiveness, but shy back away out of pure vanity. This, easy? It would be thinking. This, is easy? I’d never tell it that I knew what it was thinking. My heart wants me to think it can’t feel. Ha. I taught it that trick. “Heart, listen to me,” I’d continue, suddenly serious. “All these trials and tribulations, all these clichés, all this guess and check everything… it all means something, okay?” My heart would sputter a little chuckle through an artery or two. “Really. Do you believe me? All these things amount to something you will be someday. Something you will want to be. Do you understand?” Pump, pump, pump. “I suppose you don’t want to, but you will. And I promise everything will always be better and make sense. Just lend your trust and I will lend you kind words and we will stumble through this weedy patch of life together, yes?” Pump. Pump, pump. “Okay. Well, I just wanted you to know. You deserve to know.” Then I’d pick up my slimy, red veiny heart and shove him back down my throat and into his home where he belongs, still pumping away and prepping me for whatever comes next.
Ah, another year passes. A multitude of life lessons, and so many of which to keep close. I have grown from everything lately. I feel at best complete and just beginning all at the same time. As the days progress, I can feel my brow relaxing, my heart more open, and I am left an honest representation of my true self. This is quite alright with me. In fact - it’s fucking time.