The Room of My Heart

The walls of my heart are made of bits of broken pottery that have been painstakingly glued back together as best as I could, but the edges are chipped and rough-edged, and there are pieces missing. With each heartbeat you can hear the shards rubbing up against each other with a painful grinding sound. In one corner of the room is a pile of old dirty blankets that I wrap myself up in and try desperately to keep warm. Horrible names are scrawled across the walls in permanent marker, screaming out at me so impossibly loud that I cannot ignore them. On the other side of the room is a rusty bedspring mattress that I am terrified to go near. A monster lives under the bed. There are no windows in the room of my heart, but the cracks in the walls let in just enough light to cast shadows that haunt me and stalk me in the night. This is where I live. The me that looks out from behind dull eyes is but an automaton, performing the daily actions that are necessary for my physical existence, repetitive actions learned by route. The real me is curled up in filthy blankets in a room where I can never ever get warm.

From a prompt from Jennie Saia, though I think she was looking for happier answers. Sorry, Jennie — not feeling the happy today.


40 responses to “The Room of My Heart

  1. bloody awful poetry is a tag I am from this moment on forbidding you to use! If you fail to comply, you will ahve to bake me an apple pie!

  2. And please, don’t apologise, don’t hold back. This is necessary. Lancing festering sores is a necessary process. The other day I thought about you: I don’t have to write about this, she is. Can just read her and know my own. Carry on, carry on … talks about the same thing.

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  4. And yet at some point, and in some way I think we realise that one way around or the other, though the shards are here to stay, we don’t remain stuck. There are fleeting moments when the walls tumble down, and we shake ourselves as though from deep sleep, and realise that this moment, rightnow is the Stuff Of Life – how it’s MEANT to be.

    The sun will warm you again, the blankets will be soft and fluffy, and the box mattress and its monster will be dim and distant memories. Those moments will occur.

    And sometimes, in the in-between, you might look back and wonder about which reality is the true one; which matters more, and which (if either) should be heeded and allowed to infuse your actions.

    If this is in any way meaningful to you, I started reading this, then went and turned off my music, then started again to do it properly.

      • They happen. I’m convinced it’s a Writer thing. Or why would we write? Glad you’re okay.

      • Good days and bad days and sometimes both in the same day. Today is one of the latter. It’ll pass. I just really need a win right now, and I’m out of my element. My friend was supposed to be handling all the promotion and such for the pre-order campaign and beyond, but now, due to circumstances beyond my control (and his) I’m more or less on my own. I know how yo write, darling – when it comes to promoting and fundraising, I am out of my depth. I feel like I’m drowning – every day that ticks by without good news it’s like I have a little panic attack.
        Sorry – I needed to talk to someone, and you were here. Don’t mind me, I’m just losing my mind.

      • And your nested replies have me thwarted to leave you a properly situated reply (perhaps) but that sounds sucky 😦

        What are you aiming for with the promotion? I can offer you the sum total of my precisely NO experience, if you want. But I do know some people who’ve promoted books, who might be willing to offer advice in a nutshell, should you be interested.

        I have no idea how to fund-raise. This is the kickstarter thing, oui? I’m not good with understanding how that works, but it sounds as though you need to hit Social Media pretty hard. Or someone with deep pockets.

      • To be honest I would prefer 50 people pre-ordering the e-book package for five dollars than one person with deep pockets funding it all. The truth is it actually is doing well. We are about three quarters of the way funded and there’s still 12 days left. But I wasn’t supposed be doing all of the pushing. I feel like I have had to beg and beg and push for a lot of the last few pledges. I’m spending more of my time doing this than I am actually writing, and that’s not what I want to do it all.
        And I know that if The goal isn’t met by this time next week, i’m going to have to spend the next few days after that actually asking specific people to pledge – and I really don’t want to do that. I don’t want to do any of this! I just want to write. (sorry I should probably stop ranting now I’m probably embarrassing myself)

      • No, I can understand that, forsure.

        Well I’m no marketer, but I DO have (a little) reach. I don’t know that it would necessarily translate to buy-ins, but if you’d be interested I’d be delighted to feature you and your Kickstarter chez Considerings this week. And if I put it as a post in the week, I can re-link it in my Friday Quick Takes, which gets a different crowd sometimes, and in the TToT (another set entirely).

        Sounds as though you’re doing really well, to be most of the way there. But no. Grovelling for buy-ins isn’t anyone’s idea of a fun time. And going it alone without the back-up you’d expected…ouf!

  5. Oh how I wish i did not know the feel of this place. The dark depth you describe so well. Let me know if you need company. I’ll bring the flashlight and thermos of hot cocoa. This is beyond Greyhounds.

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  9. Apt description of how I felt ALL day today, Monday blues, my heart a hovel of barren emptiness. Your room warms my heart πŸ™‚

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