Repost

This is a repost of "heartbeat" because this was a project between me and Lola based off of an earlier conversation. You can see Lola's version of living with an internal heartbeat, by clicking the link to her blog. (her name). Enjoy!

Ba bum. Ba bum. The heartbeat is where I live. Inside of itself, the heartbeat is a world, a society, a culture. Either the heartbeat is all that, or all that is me, and only me. A one person existence that can feed off of itself. Ba bum. Ba bum. Isn't that a bit scary? A bit wrong?

As long as can be remembered, the heartbeat has existed in my head. Like how people hear things? You know what I mean? I hear the heartbeat. Ba bum. Ba bum. But not from my ears like the people do. I hear the heartbeat from inside my head. Ba bum. Ba bum. Because the heartbeat goes on, so do I. It is the metronome, the measure, meter, that keeps all in order. I live, breathe, think, because the heartbeat keeps balance. Ba bum. Ba bum.

I woke up on a Thursday and it was raining. Is it me, or does it rain often on Thursday? The heartbeat answered. Of course. Ba bum. It was about seven in the morning, and the sky was nothing but darkness and navy blue. I got up out of bed so I could go attend my eight thirty class in psychology. My closest friends always told me not to get too involved in the subject, so that I would think I could fix myself. But frankly, I'm fine. Ba Bum. The heartbeat is company to me. So I got up on this Thursday, dreading leaving the house, because the world looked pretty soggy from the third floor. I made coffee. Is it something magical and necessary for college students to live off of coffee obsessively? That's right. Ba bum. It's college. Ba bum. Some people who were willing to believe I'm not insane and talk to me, asked me if I ever got headaches from the heartbeat. And I ask, "Are internal motherly heartbeats supposed to hurt your head?" Unfortunately, this remark tends to loose me those friends that were willing to ask the question to begin with. So I'm a lonely soul.

On Thursday, the sound of rain on the street of Chicago was crazy, buzzing and streaming and flying. IF there aws a sound I recocnized to be getting to me, it was the rain, and the cars sliding on the wet pavement. I walked down the staircase and then I realized, I heard something. It was the heartbeat. Wait! I don't usually hear the heartbeat like this! I'm sorry. I'm dying. Ba bum. Ba bum. I sped down the stairs faster, like running would make the sound calm down. What? Heartbeat got faster and faster, and I panicked, and I ran. I ran past the people, and the people stared. I reached the lobby of the apartment building. Now I understood the meaning of a heartbeat, 'cause it was horrible. Heartbeat was angry at me. And then all at once, as I was reaching for the handle of the door outside, I fell. I don't know why. I was already dead, but I had a last thought. A realization. The heartbeat had stopped.