Exhibit a

You’re standing right in front of me. I see you and it makes me smile. Then you leave and I remember what you said and I keep thinking I might have made it up in my head but then it hits me…you actually said it. As with all matters of the heart, its unpredictability is scary but you can’t go against a force of nature. There’s no way of knowing what could happen but there is a way of enjoying these crazy volatile hearts. I kept wondering whether I liked a guy or not, and I don’t know if it’s just me, but I know right away, in an instant. When it’s there, it’s there and when it isn’t…there’s no point in wasting any time with it. You’re there.

You’re sitting and I can see the veins running through your arms. I keep forgetting and then I wake up and remember and a burst of energy runs through my body. We have an instrument in common and the strings remind me how music can heal anything, almost as much as time can.

Writing is making me become cautious. How can one trust again when the recovery process feels painful and endless? I don’t know but, against all odds, we always do. I swear if hearts could be examined, mine should be exhibit a. I can feel it trying to burst out of my chest sometimes. I can feel it die when people toss it around. I can feel its changing colors and its different shades depending on what I’m wearing.

What every beating part of it really wants is to be treated with care, never forgetting how fragile but strong it can be. Exhibit a is in your hands at the moment and all I can do is hope. Hope that you’ll examine it carefully, not dropping it or tossing it around. It might be only one of many but I’ve been told it’s quite unique. Be kind. And as Amanda would say: “it doesn’t matter if you want it back, you’ve given it away.” The parts are given away forever. The parts we give away for examination will always remain in the hands of the trusted, the fortunate brave ones.

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