There's a lot, good and bad, going on right now that I could write about. I don't really have time to be wasting on xanga, but I feel the need to speak to anybody and nobody at the same time. *Heavy sigh* Vague as this may be, here it goes: An epic battle rages inside me, between my heart and my head. It's not an unfamiliar conflict. This cold war has persisted for years. And it seems to always start out the same way. My heart will skip a beat and start to smile. There is a notion of hope, healing, and unforseen possibilities. My heart begins to drop its very tired guard ever so slightly. At this point my head takes notice of the disturbance and begins taking action to stifle the quiet rebellion. It sends reason and logic down to throw a monkey wrench in my heart's developing dreams. In protest my heart forges on, recognizing its folly, but tenaciously clinging to the hope that everything will turn out for the best. Vicious red flags and ominous sirens begin to sound in my head. "Do you really want me to do this? Do I really have to remind you?" It asks my heart. "Do your worst!" My heart replies defiantly. With a sad expression my head releases memories. They seep down and flood my heart. Time is not as good an analgesic as some would claim; the cold acidic moments of my past infiltrate the cracks that time should have healed. My heart gasps as every vivid, painful feeling rushes up around it like an enveloping liquid paper cut. Deep dark depression, nausea, regret, humiliation, anger, jealousy, betrayal, disappointment, guilt all become as real as the days they were first encountered. Leeches with jagged teeth, they gnaw at my heart, making it cry out- but not quit. Not just yet. My head sighs at the sight of my heart's surprising resilience. "Why do you fight like this?" It questions. "Because I want to know if it's real. I want to know if it exists. I want to see if I am capable!" My heart screams, gaining strength in its answer. "Those experiments have been run. You already have your answers. Must I keep going? Do you not remember this?!" At this point my head slams my heart onto the white carpet of a past bedroom- a memory tangible enough to knock the wind from me. I lay there paralyzed on my back, gazing at the tiles on the dark ceiling. I remember not being able to feel anything. Numb and isolated. Cold tears streamed down the sides of my emotionless face. Rock bottom. "Do you want to be here again?!" My head shrieks desperately. "But we eventually got better, didn't we? Our friends were there for us! God was there for us! We cannot forget that!" Heart counters. Head finally helps heart off the ground saying, "I know. And if you mess up again, they will be there all the same. But is it worth it? Can't you just learn from your mistakes the first time around?" Defenseless and defeated, my heart looks down and regretfully submits to my head's reasoning. These walls are here for a reason. I can't afford to let my guard down again. Somebody always gets hurt. What's worse is that it is not always me. I must think outside of myself. While I know succumbing to this is for the best, I can't help but root for the underdog. For just once in my life, it would be nice if my heart could win. Or if nothing else, if my heart and my head could learn to get along. But for now, they return to their corners. My head continues to be the practical one, protecting me and those around me from my irrational self. My heart.... secretly holds onto hope. This hope scrapes the inside of my heart like a caged wet cat, wanting out again. But my heart will keep quiet. My head is right, a few more small scars is much better than enduring the inevitable fissures that would break me should I lower these walls again. ......It is better, right? Even finally spilling all this out was a battle in itself. Obviously, I still need prayer for guidance, because I do not make a very good referee. | 
