The Tug

Every single time my eyes see something familiar. Something that reminds me – or draws me to a place where memories flood me. Every time my eyes take notice, I feel the tug. 

A quick gentle pull – that might be described as a muscle contraction – wait, is the heart a muscle? Hmmm, but you get my point. My heart’s way of say, ‘hey! We know that, don’t we?’, ‘Should we react, or shouldn’t we?’ 

Conversations with myself – there is a lot of that that goes on within myself. Does it you? Do you ever sit in your silent corner and give your heart a heated berating until you have convinced yourself you will do better next time. And boy does next rear her ugly head… ‘Screaming, ready or not, here I come – you can’t hide…’ 

But then next time, there is no tug – you have now trained yourself not to take notice or react. 

Does this mean that you are now fine? You now have permission to forget? Can you now erase that part of yourself. Do you make your memories adapt? Pick out the good, forget the pain, erase the hurt – after all, you did once, oh so long ago, kneel at a cross. 

Is this what it really means? Are these the battles that we have allowed ourselves to be fooled into fighting – Constantly trading food for milk. 

And all this because of a tug – probably a spasmic muscle that just won’t quit. Every single moment that I willingly give in, results in a pained smile. 

Pained smiles. This is what my fellowships are truly made of. Hidden pained smiles. But then again, I could have just cleaned out the medicine cabinet and not hit import antigravity. This could all just be an elaborate illusion that I have built and dwelt on for way to long. 

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