The girl without a heart

When she was born, they forgot to provide her with one.
She spent her early years feeling that there was something missing, but she got on ok. Occasionally she would shout at her parents, as if they were the ones who were meant to equip her with all the necessary tools to survive, to give her some. She wasn’t sure what she was asking for, but she knew it was necessary.
Heart, give me some heart!
It would beat slightly more easily when in company of animals. Their hearts clearly beat hard enough to give her some. But when she started interacting with human beings, their demands were so great. They demanded heart. She couldn’t give heart she didn’t have, there weren’t enough animals around her to get some.
She started grabbing heating of heart, beating of heart which shaped and formed a heart, where she could find it. But the demands were so great! More heart more heart! they demanded.
She didn’t have her own heart. She gave every beat, every heat she could produce. But she needed some back. She found some people, some people who had so much heart, so much big big heart that they gave her and they gave her and they gave her and she was happy. When these people went away, sometimes they still gave, sometimes they didn’t. She made do with whatever she had. Sometimes, she didn’t have enough.
She was careful not to take too much heart from her children. They needed as much heart as she could give them and fortunately, they, on the other hand, were born with a heart, so their heart grew bright and strong, beating strong.
One day, she was left with too few around her to beat her heart into existence. The bigger she got, the older she got, the more her composite make-up heart was struggling. It struggled to beat for as long as it could, to pulse and give warmth as much as it could, but gradually she started to withdraw, and protect the little heart that she had left. The occasions were those people who pumped her heart full of life were near her and pumping heart to her became too few and too far between.
The girl without a heart tried her best, for as long as could, to make do, keeping her heart pumping and beating and warming as much as she could.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s