I am being slowly deflated, like a ballon with the smallest hole at its edge, a balloon that begins round and high, a balloon that smiles from its vantage point above the heads of those striving for contentment, working, resenting their lives, their positions. Then, without warning, words are said, an action or a glance pierces its smooth edges like a knife through the heart and it feels itself falling; falling till it rests on the minds of those ithad just moments before been so free of, so unaware. Soon it rests upon the ground, its air has nearly escaped form its innards and it lays, still and dejected, forgottn and crushed. It's a tear thats easy to mend, it knows that it can be re-inflated, but the prospect is low, and this belief tat has overcome all others causes the final breaths to course from its bright exterior until it is nothing but abandoned material, scooped uo and binned.

My heart has sunk, like that balloon to the roof of my stomach, where it remains, heaving a shuddering like a small child, chastised and lost. My body is still, heavy and numb; weak and longing, sad but acceptant. It's like the end of a fantastic weekend, or the morning after the arms of a new experience when the aggressive come down to reality leaves you crossed leg in the rain in an unknown place, thinking, re-playing and analysing every move, every word to search for meaning in the sudden change of mood and circumstance.

I cannot handle these ups and downs. My heart spends it days thumping against my throat or resting in my gut, being worn away by the acid in my stomach, leaving it partial and torn. But why give in to it? Why allow your physical being to be affected by such mundane occurences, such small niggles of self doubt that cast a shadow over your soul.

The ground is cold and hard like an ex lovers heart and no words are needed when their actions are loud and obvious. It's these actions, insignificant as they may be, that freeze the blood and harden the heart. Your thoughts are muddled and self accusatory, you have said something, done something, that has affected not only your present relationship on a physical level, but the manner in which he says you name or catches you eye. But the question remains: why does it matter? We live in a society where we measure our character by the manner in which we are percieved by others. When we are measured negatively in an area such as physical attraction or 'love' then it affects how we feel about ourselves. It changes our features on reflection, the manner in which we walk or carry out day to day tasks. There is no way to monitor your character without the reaction that your individual characteristics invoke in those around you. Every mindful glance or purposeful gait means far more than it should and it drives you mad. Your skin tingles and your toes curl, your teeth clench and your mouth contracts against the words that bound around your tongue until you are choked by the sensation of swallowing a thousand conversations, most of which will never be spoken.