a letter to my heart.

i told my heart she didn't need you anymore. that she had done well long before you came along and she could go right on beating even though you aren't here anymore (aren't here to love me or hold me or laugh with me or watch the dead poet's society with me a million times over again because none of that matters anymore).

when you said you were leaving, walking right on out of my life like i was just another chapter in your book (or do i even get a chapter? is even a paragraph allotted to me?), my heart said she might be dead. she said she just didn't feel up to the challenge of living a life without you in it.

hush now, dear heart. i told her. he's just a boy. 

but you are not just a boy. for a boy sounds so childish, so innocent, so simple. no you are mt. everest: impossible, complex, difficult, cold, distant. few are up to the challenge of you. but i was. (does that count for anything?)

i made wishes in a wishing well and i wished for you. wished for you to wish for me back into your life (i closed my eyes and told no one of my wish---that is until now---so why has my wish not come true yet?) 

but i guess the saying is true: if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

but i am no beggar. i will not beg for you. to beg is to act desperately and that is one thing i will not do (but, hypothetically, would begging for you work? because i'm not too prideful to get on my knees and stretch out my hands and hold out my heart to my mt. everest man).

i've told my heart a million times to keep on beating, though life minus you is hard. i told my heart you're just a boy. but we both know that's not true.

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