Walking

This is what I do when my heart feels too much: I walk in circles around the park at night, my mind drifting to places far away.

I never feel the urge to cry even with a heavy heart. Grief weighs like a hundred bricks, stacked over time that I don't realise the pressure until it threatens to tear me apart. My legs move aimlessly but rhythmically, the clockwork to my musings.

There is contentment being the master of my own tiny universe, to have people walk in and out knowing that they are merely guests, just visiting, never overstaying.

I had no intention of letting anyone in nor to cultivate any real connection. It was meant to be one dimensional. But most things happen against will; there is no power you have over the heart. It moves to its whims and fancies, growing pain and pounding happiness, drowning you when you least expect it, when you least want it to.