I am feeling sad and wounded this evening. For no reason other than the fear and panic of putting myself out there, heart and soul, risking the pain and suffering of living life. I have been living, playing, enjoying life body and soul. But there is the risk, and I teeter on the edge. I feel fear rise up in my throat, tears burn my eyes, and a pressure in my chest. I can't help the knee jerk reaction.
I wish I could take my fragile heart completely out of the equation. Oh, I do try, trust me. But as anyone who knows me will tell you, I wear my heart on my sleeve. I am not one to hold my heart in check, keep it reined in. That is not my nature. My heart wants to run wild and free, unrestrained by convention or etiquette. I want it to be able to go haring off across the countryside, fearless, and maniacal. I wish I could turn it loose to run rampant and unfettered. My heart is a fearsome thing. It is huge, hot, and careless. It has no common sense, no concept of self-preservation. It will dash out into traffic, leap over the edge into the abyss, dive into deep waters, run with scissors, and play with matches.
It is up to me to prevent catastrophe. As much as I hate it, I have to be the responsible adult in the relationship, because Heart certainly won't. If I don't watch out, Heart will burn down the house.