How To Live Without a Heart.

I'm pretty sure I no longer have a heart.  I mean I can still feel it beating in my chest but I think it quit working.  I think it completely shattered when Bill died but it still lay there in pieces, probably waiting to be slowly put back together with time.   There were a few pieces that seemed to still fit together, not neatly like the pieces of a puzzle, but more like the rough, irregular pieces of a mosaic.  Lots of cracks and empty spaces but still held together in the the shape of something recognizable.

And then it got broken some more and that's why I think it's beyond repair now.

It's funny to have this awareness.  It's like I know I'm alive because I breathe and move and function.  But I do it all without feeling.  Well, if indifference can be considered a feeling then I do have that.  I just don't care.  Those pieces of my heart are lost or don't fit together and aren't able to create a vessel to hold feelings anymore.  It's empty.

But I'm indifferent to it now.  I can watch myself like I'm outside my living room, looking in through the window and observing what's going on.  And my mind can tell my outside self (let's call her my representative) what I should be doing and I just kinda autopilot things.  Get out of bed and make breakfast.  Check.  Go to work or work at home.  Check.  Laugh at a funny story told by a kid.  Check.  Feel empathy for some one's sad story.  Check.  Drink water because it's good for me.  Check.  Try to have a hobby and appear normal.  Checkerooni.  I totally do it all but I don't feel any of it.  Weird.  But yet fascinating.

I'm not sure why I'm sharing this thought.  It's kind of more than I usually like people to know about me.  But I figure that if I'm trying to write with honesty then this is brutally honest for certain.  Plus, maybe I'm not the only one who feels this way and my confession will give someone else the words to explain their own feelings.  Or maybe not.  Maybe it's just me who is deranged enough to admit it.
Either way, it's the truth.  Ugly as it sounds, it is my truth.