[13.8.2019]

my heart hasn't felt the need to write after it was left with a burden to carry. its blood vessels transporting blood into the heart. its blood vessels transporting blood out of the heart.

in, out. in, out. another biology lesson put to good use.

i know that a beating heart makes me alive. but i don't think a beating heart makes me feel alive. the contents of the heart aren't just atriums and blood.

love from under the starless night skies we slept together. anger from the bloodshot red eyes that brought nothing but sorrow. hope from days that were four thousand miles away. lust from enjoying freshly cooked steak in your bedroom, leading to different flavours on our tongues. guilt from the words i knew i shouldn't have said.

they should not belong in the contents of my heart. i should throw them out, shut the door and never to open again. but what happens when they come knocking, and the door of the heart is too fragile to keep it locked?

how do i learn to let them in and welcome their presence? how do i invite forgiveness to come over and have a talk with the others?

others will be able to forgive my mistakes. i will be able to forgive others of their mistakes. is there a way to be able to forgive myself?

i'm not so sure.

as years pass and faces age, i'm not so sure if forgiveness will ever drop by to bid goodbye to the others. i'm not so sure if these feelings will ever find a new home to live in. must i carry them when i'm already six feet under?

you are not here to teach me how to forgive myself. you are not here to teach me how to accept the mistakes i have made. and i'm not so sure if life will be as bearable as it was with you.

because you taught me about life more than another biology lesson ever could.