Friday, May 27, 2011

My 20 Pound Heart

Natural Thoughts of a Young Woman in her late 20's

My heart is weighing twenty pounds. Although it is beating in my chest, it seems to do it a little slower today. Time is creeping by like it is walking on tiptoes, but that does not make it feel any lighter, more like a villain who is trying to hide in the night’s shadow, hoping you won’t notice it. But you notice it even more, insulting it with your thoughts.

It’s the time where one feels like one is not being productive in any kind of way. Not just for a day, but for a period of time. A phase that needs to pass by, which has not revealed yet if it is life or just temporary (which I guess is a natural thought for almost thirty year olds).

Friday night. When you usually get off around 2 AM, an earlier workday throws you off. You are asking yourself where your social life has been? As usual men are not reliable. There you are, sitting at home with your make up on, in your dress and heels, only to find out the night is a failure like so many others. Same old.

There you are, decided to call it a night. Thinking about all the people you wish around but are far more than just a continent away. Your heart knows you are in their thoughts; regardless, it is beating heavy tonight.

Bored glances into the night sky. No stars tonight, it is New York City after all. I am asking myself if I can ever just be here tomorrow – tonight it is not possible. I decided to open the pack of cigarettes I never meant to buy in the first place.

Where is she, the heroine that you wanted to be, the Lisbeth Salander, the Jeanne D’arc, the Flannery O’Connor minus the suicidal thoughts?

More glances into the sky, hastily blowing out the cigarette smoke then the final thought of the day: Should I lower my expectations in others, the world, and most importantly in myself? Tell me life. And your mind goes on dreaming of becoming a writer. That just discourages more, since everybody who is literate is a writer nowadays. Everyone has a Blog and taxi drivers are becoming special career advisers – especially for writing. What am I supposed to dream of then?

Prince, you are not helping with your “Purple Rain.” Good night, this time for real…


  1. Hiiieee, it's me Jesse we met at the BBQ on saturday. I like what I read so far. Hopefully, we can encourage each other to write more. I desperately need the camaraderie.


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