Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Left My Heart In Goa

And I'm back. From the trip to Goa that would change everything. Or so I thought. And correctly. Well, sort of.

It's all rather complicated.

Ah, how I do love ambiguous answers, I love the sweet simplicity of vagueness and the loving shield provided by plausible deniability, like a mother dove's wings protecting her children.

But I digress. With all due respect to ambiguity, the thing is, it is not actually complicated, but at the same time it would be chasing a lie to say it was simple.

I find it odd that mankind would attribute this madness to the heart. The heart is simply an organ that pumps blood. And occasionally, depending on diet and stress and build up of disgusting plaque in one's arteries, stops working, and causes its host to experience myocardial infarction, which is nothing but the scientific name for a "heart attack" (praise Google, now even I can sound smart at the click of a button).

Right, so the heart is simply an organ that pumps blood. The rest is all in your head.

So in essence, when I say I left my heart in Goa, its just a metaphor for a change in my thought process that I conciously brought about. But of course, you knew that.

The question is, why?

Ah, its been a long time since I've been "free". I have long been shackled under an intangible yoke, the guilt I feel being the cross I must bear for my sins and foolishness. Lets put it this way; to quote Crosby, Stills, and Nash, "its getting to the point where I'm no fun anymore". Or rather it was so.

And its a pain in the ass to feel that way. All the time. I mean its excrutiating as it is, but to be under that stress every second of every day? To not be able to enjoy a single thing... and on top of it all, to be powerless to do anything about it? Is that any way to live?

I don't know about you, but I can't do that. Not anymore. So I did what I had to... and then I left my heart behind. Cut it out, and left it. And hey, maybe one day I'll be able to reclaim it. But until then, perhaps I can have a life pattern that bears a semblance to something normal.

Just call me Davy Jones.

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