By Mary Hillebrandt
Date: 3 July 1998
Untitled
I wonder what it's like to be loved. I not only wonder but I also remember. I am not a typical girl. I feel. When someone says they like me, I feel. I feel like some exotic gardener planted enchanted flowers in my heart. Each flower brings new things, things that I have never experienced before in my life. Everything is new and exciting. Everything seems to make sense, and have a purpose. Everything seems alive, and it's destiny all depends on the garderner. He decides what seeds to throw and what seeds not to. He decides what days it will rain and what days the sun is so bright and fulfilling. The gardener has this power so inconceivable- even to himself. He has the power to make you happy by his warmth, or sad by its rain. When someone compliments me I wonder what they are up to. Is there a reason why they chose to grow that flower? Being told nice things is good, but I take it to heart. I take evertying to heart, because if I don't I might miss something fantastic. Something worth all the confusion, all the worrying, and even all the pain. I've experienced many things, many different people, many new kinds of flowers have grown inside my heart. Some have died and some will forever grow. Sometimes I think that isn't all that good - but it is because without those flowers I wouldn't be who I am today. It hurts, but in most cases it is difficult before it can be easy. I can't help but wonder what flowers I could do without. Some artificial flowers can never stand a chance in my heart- it won't have any room to grow. I don't want to risk not being able to help the flowers grow. I guess what the hard part is-is that I had a person. I had a new flower, a new fragrance, a new life, a new feeling. I thought I could love and care, but I guess things don't last forever. Everything had to die out. Everything has its final process, its final step into change and distraction. Distraction from what you think is real. Away from all the pain of knowing that certain smell, or touch of love. But to love, we must. We must learn to laugh, to smile, and to frown and to cry. If you don't have all those you are not complete. You are not you - but an imposter. A fraud. A phony. You can't hide forever. You can't give in to the darkness without as well as the darkness within. Because if you give in, you're lost in your own black hole of lies. Who knows if you will ever find your way out. I wonder a lot. I worry alot. But I guess that is who I am, who I always will be. Take it or leave it.
Back to the Heart-on-Sleeve Corner