You always knew, didn't you?
When I listened to Doubt and put away my novel.
When I declared I'm just not very creative.
When I turned away from myself.
You knew I was making a mistake, didn't you?
I wish I had heard you better.
You living there deep inside me, it's a blessing and a curse.
On one hand, you're always close. Always there.
One the other, you're always hidden, never seen.
I can't rip you out and hold you up to the world. I wish I could.
I wish I could open my chest. Rip through skin, flesh and rib cage, take you out and hold you warm and beating.
I wish I could let you speak on my behalf, make my decisions for me.
But you never speak. You never do.
You just feel.
Remember when I was a kid, how thin my rib cage was?
I could hear your beatings so clearly. Always knew what you wanted. I let you lead. We were a team, in harmony.
I guess life happened.
The so called Reality came in it's corporate suit and beat me with it's suitcase.
It hurt, it hurt you, us.
You can't only listen to your heart, you must listen to your head too.
But they didn't mean I should use my intelligence and wits to make what you longed for happen.
No, they never wanted that.
When they said listen to your head, they meant listen to me.
It was their sneaky way of making me do whatever they wanted.
Instead of finding my own way forward, lead by you, they stuffed me with their agendas and ideas, their definition of good.
Fuck you corporate guy.
Fuck you and your straight lines and hard edges and your fucking suitcase. You beat me bad.
I had to defend myself somehow, but I didn't know how.
I had to defend you, Heart, from the punches they were throwing.
So I hardened.
My rib cage got stronger.
My skin thicker.
And you, Heart, you got buried deeper and deeper inside of me.
I stood before choices and I listened for your beating.
Muffled, vague, confusing.
So I listened to "my head" instead.
Sometimes I wonder why you didn't stop beating altogether.
But I know, I've seen what you beat for.
Of course you'll keep beating, however impossible it may seem.
Do you remember the turning point?
I know I do.
It was that time when you had been longing for something else for so long, you knew we weren't in the right place.
Finally, I found something that made you so, so happy.
Even beneath my hard bones, I could hear you loud and clear.
Du-dunk. Du-dunk. Du-dunk.
And damn, for once I did what you wanted.
I let you choose and nothing else.
That was the turning point.
Slowly, I started to relax again.
My skin got a little bit lighter.
My rib cage softened just a tad.
Slowly, I started hearing you better.
That moment when we started writing again, oh my you were dancing like you've never danced before. It was so obvious that it was right.
Heart, I've started hearing you better, but it's still hard sometimes. I still get clouded by those stupid voices that got put in my head. The hardness still stands between us sometimes.
I want it to end.
I want back to when I was a kid. When my skin was thin and my rib cage was just like branches. When you lead the way.
You've got to be hard, they said. The world is tough and you need to be tough back. You've got to be cold to survive, they said.
Well fuck them.
I don't want to be hard. I want to be vulnerable.
Let them come, let them kick. It doesn't matter.
They can try but they can't kill me.
Because as long as I have you, as long as I can follow you, I know we'll be okay.
I'm gonna do what they could have meant. I'm gonna use my wit and my intelligence to find the best way to what you want, Heart. My head will work for you.
I promise you, when I'm done, my skin will be so thin it's almost see-through and my rib cage will just be a delicate nest for you.
Through it, the light of you will beam, and your beats, my dear, will be so loud they just can't be missed.
You will lead the way and I will follow.
Your scared little writer.