Monday, February 21, 2011

I'm scared of what's behind, and what's before

Mumford & Sons are keeping me going right now.

If you haven’t heard their song After the Storm, listen to it now. It’s a beautiful end to a beautiful album. Mostly these lines:

But there will come a time, you’ll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears

I’m just tired of caring so much. I’ve said it before, and it hasn’t changed -- I’m just not a lukewarm person. I am incapable of going into something and holding back -- if I do it, I do it wholeheartedly.

One of my mom’s friends told her that you should never give your whole heart away. It’s not safe; it’s not wise. My mom’s like me, though. How can you hold back a piece of yourself?

But it’s not safe, and it’s not wise.

Have you seen the video for Ingrid Michaelson’s “Breakable”? She has her heart removed, and she leaves it in a street musician’s open guitar case, but then spends the rest of the video trying to recover it. Such an odd notion, giving your heart away; and it’s only easy in one direction. The recovery is nearly impossible.

I’m trying to believe in other songs; there’s Try to Remember from the Fantasticks: “Without a hurt the heart is hollow.” I try to convince myself of the truth of that statement. Isn’t it better to care, to feel, to wholly commit myself, than to go around empty like a robot?

No. It’s not better. I want to be heartless, hollow like the Tin Man; an aloof, nonchalant, “take-em-or-leave-em” kind of girl. I want to stop caring so much. I care hard, about everyone and everything, whenever I’m given the opportunity. And it hurts. And I make a fool out of myself.

Looking for good books as distractions, so any recommendations are welcome. I bought and finished Hunger Games on Saturday; it seems young adult fiction may be my savior.

Love always (but don't),