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Message-ID: <55815asstr$1178644201@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Victor Echo" <victor.echo@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} From the Heart (MF, sorrow, no sex)
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Date: Tue, 08 May 2007 13:10:01 -0400
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(c) 2007 Victor Echo

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
are either the product of the author's disturbed imagination and are
used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead,
undead or mostly harmless, business establishments, events, or locales
is entirely coincidental.

-----
From The Heart

I had forgotten that I had a heart, much less what its purpose was.  It
had been locked away for so long that I no longer remembered why I had
one in the first place.  Of course, I do not mean that mass of muscle
in the center of my chest that pushes oxygenated blood around my body
but the heart that is the center of emotion.  And mine was in a box,
sealed tight in a metaphoric tower of my own creation.  I did not even
have the key to the one door into the place.  But I had not really missed
it.  Or at least, I did not think I did.

I do not know how she broke it out.  The tower still stands, the door
unopened, and yet, she broke the seals and made me see again.  I could
smell the air, I could see the sights around me, even though I walked
passed them everyday.  I knew love again and it was wonderful.  Parts of
me that had not functioned for years suddenly worked.  I thought
different thoughts or rethought old thoughts in new ways.  The world
would disappear in her presence and nothing else mattered.  The drudgery
of daily life was more than tolerable, it was exciting because it meant
that I would be with her at the end of it and at the beginning of it and
throughout it.

But love is a dangerous thing.  It has a catch to it.  Being in love
means, sometimes, being willing to let it go and accept the pain of that
parting.  It means building another tower, with another box.  It means
seeing things in grey and dun instead of bright and vibrant.  And
sometimes it means forgetting.

It also means hope.  And hope is what I have.  I refuse to close the
lid on that box just yet.  I refuse to close the door to the tower and
give her the key.  I refuse to ask for my heart back.  While you may
have to let go eventually, there is nothing that prevents you from
fighting just a little bit harder.  I have seen the world in grey and
I have seen it in bright colour.  I choose colour but it is something
I have to fight for.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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