Listening to: The washing machine
Watching: This screen..
One never heal completely from a wound. A scar is left as evidence. Not for everyone to see, but for those who can identify. We get tougher, though more reserved for what ever might be offered to us. We strive to not let ourselves down even when on a winning streak.
When the composure of luck and fear makes a motion in us, we blend in and keep our tounges tied.
The hard part comes to call when one makes an attempt to be daring. It never comes across as full-hearted, and the translation chokes from misunderstood action. Letting a heart slip down our sleeve is a tough slide with enormous force. We keep a safety string, and therefore get seen as charlatans.
When the moment comes, when the defenses no longer can take abuse of our hearts. When the pulse rises and we're hardcore ready to blow our bluff, when the person looks us in the eye, and we know we can't do it. That is love defeat.
The explanation is simple. The uncontitional form of emotions and love, can be categorized in two. The first one is the one we get from animals, and the second one is that we get from someone we lost.
I can hardly breathe sometimes, when I think of all these possibilities. And knowledge is the enemy in this case. I would rather not know, and be happy until it ends, instead of knowing what will come.. I'd rather be naive, ignorant and dumb. I'd rather love for nothing, than never love.
Our hearts pulled so hard up our sleeves now, it hurts.
© Anette Augestad Furuheim