A hurting heart is most often associated with emptiness; it aches because it knows well the pangs of hunger. For me, however, I don’t feel emptiness. I feel full, so very full, with a heart that loves and feels with unparalleled passion.
My heart hurts because I have too much love. I have love for causes, for humanity, and above all, for the ones whom I personally know. Sometimes I simply overflow. With new information and input coming at me constantly, I scarcely have the time to process it or the space in my mental chamber to store it. So all the fresh love and fresh information dribbles out of me, like mashed food from the mouth of a baby who is no longer hungry. Come to think of it, that’s who I am – a child who’s too full. I’m too full.
To me, releasing love isn’t just second-nature; it’s vital. I want to pour it out. What is normal for me, however, is overwhelming for others. People don’t always like to be bombarded with I-love-yous and appreciation. It’s uncomfortable, and I have largely learned to deal with it, but sometimes I just can’t help myself. My heart aches to love, and to be loved in return. When I don’t receive love for my love efforts, I feel dejected. A big heart pours out and needs more to be filled up again, but most people do not love so much. Sometimes I feel like that’s how I live – always looking to pour out my full heart, then seeking tirelessly, though passively, for love with which to pacify it once more. So, then, I suppose I have contradicted myself. I do feel empty, but never without feeling full. I am a living embodiment of two extremes.
What is it like to have a moderate heart – a heart that doesn’t crave to empty and refill? What is it like to not feel so bloated by passion? A sliver of me wants to experience this lukewarm contentment, but then again, I would never want to be half-hearted.