heart shaped box.



“It was all a mirage;
everything I saw,
it wasn’t really there.”

My heart is a prison. I’m trapped inside this beating fortress of muscle and blood. I see things that aren’t really there. I believe things that aren’t really true. I turn reality into imaginary. Delusional. All is lost in a single beat. There’s a hole in the wall, a chamber malfunction. Bad blood mixes with good. Atrial Septal Defect. Ebstein’s Anomaly.

I swear it’s defected.

The doctor tell me it’s normal.

Well fuck you Dr. Know Nothing because my heart has caused more problems in my life than any other organ I have. Sure girl, consciously kill your liver (what has it ever done to you?!) and just let your heart go on shit storming your life up.

Give me a transplant please. I want a black heart, one that doesn’t feel. I want one with a faulty lock, with a crooked hinge, an uneven seal, whatever the damage might be that allows me to escape from it. I don’t want to be trapped inside the one I was born with anymore.

I used to watch The Vampire Diaries. Envious of the characters Damon and Stefan and their ability to turn their feelings off, shut them down, forget they ever had them at all. Emotionless vampires meandering through immortal life without a care in the world. The inability to feel anything on purpose and at will – – now that would be awesome, wouldn’t it? Running through a field of wild flowers, spinning in circles, in an obnoxious girly-girl dress screaming, “look at all the fucks I give!!!!” And there would be none. For real. I wouldn’t have to fake it, I could literally stop feeling. It would be glorious.

An obscene level of familial dysfunction – – as if it is seven of the most dramatic soap operas wrapped into one family… don’t care. A detached lover? Don’t care. Drowning in bills? Still don’t care. Ramen Noodles for lunch every day for the last three weeks when you’re closing in on 30 years old? So what? Chemical plastic shaped like pasta all day ‘errrrday bitch. Not a worry in the world that these noodles are causing a slow gastric death seeping toxic waste into my mucous membranes and the fact that every package could outlive a nuclear blast.

Emotions can’t touch me.

Just kidding.

I feel everything.

There is no emergency shut off valve.

But a girl can dream.

I bear the Zodiac sign of the crab. This makes me an internal emotional roller coaster. Crabs feel EVERYTHING. Even other people’s emotions. Many Cancers are unable to distinguish the difference between their feelings and those they sense in others. I know I can’t. It’s overwhelming sometimes. It can be energy zapping. As if your emotions and my emotions formed a giant octopus that attached itself to my face. Tentacles smothering, airways constricting, a strange slurping sound, sucker cups sucking – – the life right out of me.

They say we Cancers are tender at heart, family oriented, we consider our homes to be our retreat: we need order and calmness to reign there so we can recharge after a hectic day, we’re home bodies, kind, intuitive, dependable, action taking, persistent, artistic, creative and excellent workers and providers. But we’re also fearful of rejection, resentful, unforgiving, and angry.

It’s all true.

All this Zodiac mumbo-jumbo brings me to this ::

Recently, on 01/09/2015, Lindsay Holmes posted an article in The Huffington Post called 6 Toxic People Who May Be Sabotaging Your Happiness. Number five? The person/people who USE you.

Holmes writes, “We don’t have room in our lives for people who take advantage of us. Helping each other is one thing, but if the favors are always one-sided, it might be time to address the situation.”

If you’ve read the above, you could see how easily a crab might be used. I try to be kind. Always. There’s a difference between being nice and being kind. I’m not normally nice per say. I could be a bitch. But damn it, I am kind. I will offer a helping hand to those in need, strangers, co-workers, friends, practically anyone, doesn’t matter who.

I try to be dependable. I will come through for you if you need me. I never go back on my word unless some really crazy shit happens to derail my promise. Whether it’s love, work, help, advice or even money… though I usually end up regretting this one since I honestly don’t a pot to piss in, but still, I find myself giving away what I don’t have, because you need it, because you need me.

Action taker. Yes I am. I am always ready to spring into action. If I get a plan, idea, notion, anything in my head, I’m quick to dive right into it. And I’m persistent as fuck. I never give up. But sometimes, that’s not always a good thing. At least not in this case. I haven’t given up on all of you yet.

When it comes to my family, they’re repeat offenders, charged with using me time and time again. And every single time, there I am:: listening, offering, listening, giving, listening, driving, listening, donating, listening, believing. And with each time – the lies, the manipulation, the bullshit, the asking, the taking, the draining… it cuts a little deeper and soon the wounds won’t close anymore. When is the end? When will it stop? I’m giving so much of myself sometimes that I can’t get back to the me I was before.

I become bitter. Resentful. Angry.

The crab in me wants to sharpen my pincers and take off a toe or two, maybe some fingers, maybe more. You take my soul, I start taking your extremities.

Harboring anger and bitterness morphs you into a tea pot ready to blow, whistling your resentments and spraying your scalding water on the innocent. It contradicts all the good traits I have. And instead of making me upset, knowing this only makes me angrier.

You know I’d believe you if one more time you told me you loved me and were proud of me. Asking me “how I am doing” like you mean it. Feed me just enough bullshit to lay your trap. And I’ll walk right into it. Again and again. A leaf covered spear pit. It’s not in my nature to ignore you if need my help. It’s not in my nature to back down. It’s not in my nature to not always seek the good in people, the good in you.

But what if there isn’t any good?

Any good at all.

Not anywhere.

Not an ounce, not a sprinkle, not a pinch.

Psycho narcissistic sociopath.

You depend on my dependability.

You drink my kindness until you are drunk off of it.

You build the dollhouse exterior to conceal your house of horrors.

You invite me in.

I’m tangled in the web of your puppet strings.

I drank your fucking Koolaid.

Might as well pour me a double.

Cyanide.. antifreeze.. Draino, whatever.

Pick your poison.

Family is family. It’s hard to cut the ties that bind. Blood is thicker than water. Supposedly. I don’t know which time will be the time I say enough is enough, but I hope it comes soon.

But I hope there never comes the time when I learn to shut down my emotions, to stop my heart. To let the anger blacken it until it’s charred and merciless. Then my dedication, my action taking, my creativity and my persistence might mean something different entirely to you. I’ll have an inside that mirrors your own. But I guarantee it’ll be uglier.


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