Restless, I lay on my bed with blood pumping through my arteries. Thinking: “Is this how it would feel if I slit open my capillaries?”
Who would know better than my heartbroken single mother? Cardiomyopathy…such a strong word. I do not know its meaning but I do know of its strength and, in all honesty, it defines a heavy heart that seeks but never finds. A heart that reaches out but never catches on; and a heart that sets free, but is never really free.
It yearns for healing. We all do, but yield no results. Cardiomyopathy, a sickness medicine cannot cure, but affection does. Your heart will bleed and still your chest will be in pain. They say love doesn’t cost a thing, but right now it’s costing me my heart!
Besides the point of loss and hurt, cardiomyopathy devours my true self as much as it does any feelings I had for the world. I beg for healing, show me affection, be pretentious about it. My heart won’t notice a thing. Allow me to heal.
I was asked to leave your side, but my left leg remained. I came for it and my right leg did the same and now? Now I’m just hanging on to my heart, even if it’s futile, but know this: it keeps me alive and sane.