an edit of a previous thing I wrote. Can’t seem to write new things, and enjoying going over old stuff.
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My heart is hurting. With a perpetual longing for connection, for healing, for safety. Safety in ourselves, in others, in community. Hurting heart.
My heart is bitter. It has become judgmental, mean, protected. From all the times I thought I would get what I needed: connection, care, community. Bitter heart.
My heart is tired. Tired of thinking there are places for us. Places for broken, messed up hearts. Places to rest. Places of refuge. Tired heart.
We can sense other hearts. Hurting hearts, bitter hearts, tired hearts. But like us, they are guarded by sharp-beaked, short-fused egos. By brains of great dominance; survivor super organs. They get us through, keep us moving.
I have become a fine connoisseur of over-developed ego. I am the president of the Protective Brains for Feeling Eradication Society. And I am hurting. I am heartbroken. Broken hearts let egos run rampant.
Head over heart.
We’re Mean. Insecure. Defensive. Malicious.
Big brained. Broken hearted.