Hope & My Heart

Dear journal, today was a different day. I woke up later than the midday sun came across the sky, and I spent all day with my best friend. The night started out fun, and I didn't feel any pain up until around 11:00. It's funny how it almost becomes a ritual, every night I can feel my heart trying to bury itself in my ribcage, and my brain telling me I need to stop listening to my heart, and start listening to my head, because all my heart wants is to be hurt. 

My heart has suicidal tendencies, feelings of worthlessness, and a lack of motivation. My heart has trouble being around and dealing with people. My heart has trouble focusing and concentrating. 

But it has no problem with weight gain, no my heart is in fact so light that I either can't feel it beating in my chest, or It needs to be locked up in a hospital again. Either way, my heart has lost his mind. 

My heart likes to tell me to pursue love in the direction in which it's running away from me. And in fact, it's duct taped my brains mouth so that it can't tell me to speak up and to stop running in the wrong direction. 

It tells me that I have hope in places where hope avoids so carefully, because hope doesn't want to get hurt. 

As it sinks down in my stomach, it works its way around my body, cutting off the nerves I use to feel, making me blind to the pain I'm feeling because my hope doesn't like to talk to me. It makes its way up to my brain, causing every song I hear to remind me that hope isn't here right now, that hope is too busy giving her attention to everyone, because she gave me what she wanted to, and then turned her back on me as she placed me on the shelf. And I'll maybe just sit here until hope turns around, or maybe sees my emotions and conquer her fear of stepping into the dark, because I really need to be pulled out right now. I really just need to talk to hope. And I need hope to talk to me.