Journal 9

Here follows the tale of a cluttered heart.
Once several days ago there was a girl with a very cluttered heart. There were so many people she cared about, and soon her attachments grew too strong and consuming for her poor icy heart. She found that each look they gave her had meaning, and in that meaning she hoped was a sign that those who gave it too had meaning (which was really rather foolish, if you ask me, but then again, cold though her heart was she still had hope hidden away in one of its warmer recesses). Before she knew what had happened she grew fond of each pair of eyes, and especially hopeful that the world need not be filled with cold people such as herself. She thought back to an old verse "If my eyes are the windows to my soul, then is my face the wall that keeps it hidden?" and wondered how much truth to it there really was.

Soon she found problems where there were none before. Easy and wonderful though it would seem to care about so many people, she found herself pulled in far too many directions, and all at once. Some people she gave attention they did not warrant, and some who deserved her time were neglected. This poor girl had a very strong idea about what was fair, and she knew that it was not possible to give everyone what they deserved if she was always giving her thoughts to people who did not deserve them. Some people had only recently acquired her attention, and as they ever gave her nothing but hope, she let them fall from her mind. Hope is a wonderful thing, but one cannot live on hope alone. One person had once meant the world to her, and made her frigid heart burn. She let him too slide from her mind. Though he was once something great, the years had changed him, forever not for better.

Thus the frigid girl was left only with the people who had held her up when she needed it, those who had saved her from that crippling hypothermia that grew inside her soul. Thus she found her heart begin to thaw when he looked into her eyes, and thus she found true hope.

I apologize for my melodrama. It just happens sometimes.