Warning; This can give you images of bloody hearts, but it's not gory in any way.

When I'm alone I think of myself as a beating heart- a drumming blood red heart held in a fist without blood veins hanging down from it. It looks like it has just been ripped out of someone's chest or cut out of an animal. It has no special label nor tag to show which race or species it belongs to, it doesn't need one, humans are animals after all right?

I think of myself, and everybody else, as a bloody heart in a fist. It's still beating. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump it says time after time there it beats nicely in the big or small fist who holds it. Because it's the fist who defines the person it belongs to, not the important organ which is dripping with blood, but it's still more important than the fist. We are alike on the inside, you and me, and everybody else.

Every bloody heart has a certain amount of beats and they can change after what each person expose their strong, but fragile heart for. It's not supposed to stop by itself or just stop working like phones can do, no. That's the fist's job, it's supposed to suddenly say: 'stop!' and squeeze out the last drop of blood until the life dies out.

I'm often thinking of your heart, how you affected mine and I yours. It hurts and feels good when I remember memories from the wonderful life we shared. I think of how my life necessary organ would swell up with happiness and feel like it beat a million times faster over the small things you did for me just to see me smile. I think of how I cried when you stood in front of me on one knee and asked me if I wanted to be your dearest, even you got tears in your unforgettable eyes when I said yes. But most of all I think of the letters you sent me and how the space between them grew and grew, until they just one day stopped to appear in our mailbox.

Even though I wasn't there, I could easily see where you had been in the world while you were writing them. I could smell the ocean from them when you had been on one of the military ships, see that you had been sitting in a car driving on a road full of humps and find sand from West-Asia in the envelope. I knew you travelled a lot and was very busy. The length on them told a lot too. I hated you for letting me wait with a nervous heart month after month with an empty mailbox, but it still swelled up when I finally received a new one. It longed after you.

However, like all good things, it suddenly said stop and the fist squeezed hard when I read the words 'M.I.A.'. It was so painful. Did you know that the heart actually could save memories in a way? Me neither. I must have read the letter at least twenty times, if not more, and the worst was that my heart went through all of the saving worthy memories of us it had kept as I read it. The whole time my heart went: 'ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-dump!' as a unsure and fragile, galloping foal on thin, small legs. I have never been so sure that my fist was going to close around my heart forever.

I turn my head toward the clock and the calendar, which hangs on the mint-green walls you loved, but I don't take in the numbers, instead my eyes are drilling holes into the wall. The colour is now reminding me of something dirty and muddy. Time isn't important anymore, it hasn't been for a while. I'm barely managing to concentrate on things anymore, it's not yours nor mine fault, or ... Maybe both of us'. Most likely. My concentration are headed on something else, I'm focusing on my own form, my inner self; my heart. I'm focusing on every beat; ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump. I'm just waiting, I'm waiting for yours or mine fist to close itself. Maybe yours already have stopped and I get a letter in our mailbox tomorrow which gets mine to stop. I don't know. Mine can say stop today or next week. I don't know that either. It's a competition in a way, which one says stop first?

I like this one.

It was actually a short story for a norwegian short story task which I got inspiration to write after showering with music on, when The Ghost of You suddenly started to play. Idk what grade I have gotten on it yet, but I hope it's good :33

I hope it wasn't confusing.

Thanks for reading, voting and commenting! ♡

-fckEdenout