I’ve been thinking a lot lately about strength. About the resilience of our souls, and the punishment they can take before they give out. I’ve been thinking about what defines a strong person, and whether it can ever be measured. Strength is one of those characteristics that means different things to different people. I said to my beloved recently that ‘I could not be broken’. What I meant by this was that I feel there is something in me that can never be destroyed, because it can never be touched. To him, who is nearly twice my size and could break both my arms in about three seconds if he wanted to, this is a rather charming and ridiculous statement. But when I say I cannot be broken, what I’m thinking of is the ability my heart has to heal. And to forget. Even when I don’t want it to. It is an ability that has made many people call me a cold, unfeeling bitch. But I know that isn’t true. I love with all my heart, and I still fear the pain of heartache - perhaps more than is healthy for my mind.
When we fall in love we forget what came before. All most of us want is to have the past no longer matter, and be free from our memories. I am forgetting now, and it lets me sleep better at night; sleep deeper in his love and his arms that hold me down in the peaceful, dreamless sleep of those that have no choices. Of those that have been given a clean slate. I marvel at my heart’s ability to survive, and find happiness after so much despair.
The pages above were made a long time ago, about another man. I saw them and started thinking about this ability I have, to forget. I am going to follow them up with ones made about the man I share my life with now, and maybe more from my past that I’ve never published. To show myself what a beautiful thing it can be, to have a thick skin, and an elastic heart.