I Have a Loud Heart

This means I live in extremes. It means I sometimes have so much emotion and passion inside of me that it just boils over, and sometimes it even just explodes.

When I’m angry, it’s not just a rainy day; it’s a ferocious storm inside of me that feels like a tornado in my stomach and heart that tears my organs into bits. When I get sad, it’s not just being blue; it’s feeling like a deep, bruised, shade of purple that seeps into my bones and my cells and I can’t breathe. When I’m happy, it’s not just a sunny day; it’s an extraordinary, thrilling day in shades of yellow and orange and a brilliant white that makes me feel like I am in a convertible and it’s going 100 miles per hour and I’m standing on the seat and feeling the wind whip my hair and face so hard I can’t help but laugh from a place that I didn’t even know existed in my belly of bellies. When I love, I don’t just want to be next to you; I need to be inside of your skin and touch your bones, read your thoughts, and feel your childhood.

My loud heart is exhausting, but it holds a passion inside of it that, even in my darkest moments, makes me grateful for each wonderful, awful, bizarre, and fantastical moment. 

Then I wonder how anyone could ever live with a quiet heart.

If I had a quiet heart I would probably live easier, with less disappointment, and maybe even longer. But I would rather explode a million times and have to piece myself back together than carry the fear of fading away quietly into oblivion.