You know when your hair is in tight twisted tangles and you are trying to comb through or brush it…that face-squinting feeling of painful discomfort that comes as the knots abruptly snag on the bristles and teeth of your brush and comb?
So imagine that, only when you get to the tangle with your comb or brush, a medium sized child runs out from behind a sofa or a bush–or whatever nearby thing that could hide a child–and the youngster leaps at you and grabs on to the comb and pulls with its full weight. But the tangles are too thick, and the little adolescent is just suspended in air, dangling from the hair-correcting apparatus.
And so it just continually yanks and pulls in a harrowing, agonizing manner.
…my heart feels like that sometimes. Quite often sometimes.
It can be unbearable. Seemingly, at least. Obviously I’m still breathing and living and writing, so I must be bearing it. I wish my heart callouses formed more rapidly. I wish hope and I would turn and go our separate ways, once and for all. Alas, but we are conjoined, the on with the other. I’ve tried to say goodbye, but like a heat-seeking missile of a dark shadow, my hopes return to me. I am like Sisyphus, continually rolling my hopeful boulder uphill, only to nearly reach the top–a place of respite and progress–and the boulder faithfully tumbles down unto the bottom for me to begin all over again.
Loveland, CO ¦¦ July 24, 2018
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