____________________________ I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart: I am, I am, I am. - Sylvia Plath
February 5, 2011
I'm Gonna Stay
I can't stop listening. This song is hurting me in a place that I forgot existed. It's the kind of hurt that you tucked away a long time ago. That, when you felt it, you knew you couldn't ever bear to feel it again, so you folded and folded and folded it into the tiniest square, and tucked it away in the depths of your body where nobody, not even you, was supposed to find it again. But it's here, right in front of me. I feel every stab. I embrace it, though. I know that if I don't, it will always be there, this tiny pain. So I embrace it, in the hopes that slowly it'll become less of a square, less of a burden on my small heart, and more of a dot that, over time, will dissolve away, fray and erode into nothingness. And it won't hurt anymore. I won't hurt anymore.
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