United States

<3 Gay <3
Native American & Hispanic
Music - rock/indie
Nature lover
Biology lover

Message from Writer

"If the day and the night are such that you greet them with joy, and life emits a fragrance like flowers and sweet-scented herbs, is more elastic, more starry, more immortal- that is your success. All nature is your congratulation, and you have cause momentarily to bless yourself." -Thoreau

Carrying Her Heart In Her Hand

December 2, 2020


There once was a girl, who carried her heart in her hand. Her hair was a silky black, and her skin was often blue. However noticeable these other features were, one couldn’t pass her by without noticing her face. Delicate, it was, but it grew to be tainted with pain, for she looked so solemn and her eyes so empty. She carefully cuffed her heart in her palms, or in one hand; in a pocket. She could feel it’s warm pulse against her icy skin, with every beat, she took it as a reminder of life, thus happiness. For how difficult could things be, with a heart still beating? But the girl was terribly mistaken. She was only growing dangerously comfortable, with being uncomfortable. It was an elusive silk she cast over herself. When people saw her, they mistook her quietness, lack of emotion, willingness to live, as happiness. But they too were terribly mistaken. She carried her heart in her hand, and she did so with purpose, she thought it was not hers to keep. She was very good at smiling and laughing and celebrating for others. She meant it when she was happy for others. Frequently she would give her heart away to those she felt needed her loving more than she needed loving for herself. So from hand to hand her heart went, and the longer she spent without it, the bluer she grew. But she never complained, she experienced life in other's happiness. The dear girl could care so much, yet so little. If the girl wasn’t handing off her heart, she would hide it away in a junk drawer. Reckless, she was, with her heart. She’d leave it on her bedside table when she left her room for the day. She would drop it on the ground of a busy street. Sometimes, she even forgot it on a grocery shelf. No one would want to run into her when she lost her heart. Nonetheless, the girl always got her heart back, well, not entirely. Sometimes it would get stepped on, spat on, hit. But all that is even better than what she would do; she would put the heart back in her hands, never her chest. She never knew the warmth she could feel from a beating heart from within. She sometimes would hold her heart in her hands, up against her chest. And lie in her cold, blue room at night. Huffing out silky streams of breath towards the ceiling. She wouldn’t bother spending time imagining anything extraordinary, extraordinary was far too out of reach. I don’t think many people realize how possible some of their dreams are. The girl's dreams were simple, simple like holding someone’s hand. Like talking to someone. Being told how loved she was. These were simple dreams she had had for a long long time. She was getting tired of only dreaming of them. She was soon going to be an adult, and still, she felt she never knew love. Then she would shut her eyes to keep her tears from leaving their prison. And her heart would be put away in a box and set aside for some time again. For it was easier to feel nothing than have her heart with her. The girl had bigger problems than love, this she knew, but this one came back to haunt her and dangled on a heavy chain. She often fed herself news from the world beyond herself, to distract herself from her own problems. But these too grew heavy. It became harder for her to carry her heart around at all, so when those she cared for dearly needed her, she would feel bitterness towards them for feeling saddened by personal problems. In her eyes, she only saw the many issues of the world when she was without her heart. She formed sharp edges, her eyes were so ever empty, and her skin; so blue. She was cold, bitter, and alone. She would wonder how she could feel joy when the world was suffering? When she would forever be alone. How could she be there for others, when she couldn’t even be there for herself? What’s the point? This, she considered “self-loathing” questions, so she would tuck them away, only for them to cloud her mind another day. One day, she lifted up her heart and put it up to her ear and carefully listened, “thuh-bump, thuh-bump.” It was a reminder to her, that she was alive. Then at that moment, she had realized, this body was hers, this heart was hers. If her heartbeat is a sign of life, then that makes her life, her own. She had to stop being a prisoner of her own mind and realize, this heart was beating for her body, it was beating for her. 
I felt like writing a story


See History
  • December 2, 2020 - 10:10am (Now Viewing)

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  • Just_A_Memory

    Hurry up! Christmas is upon us and you as an elf have to make sure the presents are up to code. Head to your work station!

    9 months ago
  • Just_A_Memory

    Sleigh bells ring, and horse hooves click. Your magical ride awaits! To chapter seven we go, over the hills and through the beautiful, fresh laid snow <3

    9 months ago
  • Busssy.Beee

    Christmas time! I see a stocking on the fireplace. Oh, there's something on it. What is it? It's a link! https://writetheworld.com/groups/1/shared/207074/version/426266

    10 months ago
  • Starlitskies

    Wow this metaphor is incredible and your writing, beautiful!
    Re: Thank you for your comment on my piece! Oh and please go ahead and draw her. :)

    10 months ago
  • Just_A_Memory

    She was only growing dangerously comfortable, with being uncomfortable::: My favorite line BY FAR!

    Beep beep! Did someone order an uber? Where to? Chapter five you say?

    10 months ago
  • Rohan’s Defender (Semi-Active)

    Re: thank you so much. These are hard times for us all, but we can get through them with faith and love. Thank you so much!!! I hope you’re well! :)

    10 months ago