Cutting Heart Strings
My heart is tied up in the umbilical cords of my country even though I am sixteen years old. There is this connection within us that is so spiritual, yet it should have been temporary. There is this sense of duty I feel, to honor her sacrifices in life, to live out the dreams that should have been pursued by her own hands.
Mine stretch out towards a different path, one that would be like taking all the diamonds in the world and crushing it into guilty dust right in front of her mines. The thought of the destruction of such an opportunity just splinters the heart all over.
I now hold the diamond in my hand, looking at its beauty under the glow of my word document, open to an assignment that I should have completed long ago. I see how easy it is to destroy something so precious, so incomprehensibly raw, but valuable.
The cord that ties me and my country together is not bound by copper and steel, does not conduct electrical desires and distractions at glance, but rather it is one made of tissues and veins, one of understanding that surpasses language. It is one of expression, of internal gratitude that surpasses language. One cannot simply walk away from a relationship like that.
Sometimes, it is better to walk away, however. Are we content with bearing the burden of responsibility if we receive love in return? Love, although a necessary emotion for survival, requires sacrifice, and some may consider this too much to care for.
It was a Monday when I felt all of this. I was mining coal out of sand and dust, looking for diamonds to make my motherland smile. After a while, her pull became too fierce, and I couldn’t dig for myself anymore.
That was when I cut the cord, and let go. I wished to be liberated by the freedoms of my wishes, rather than imprisoned by the effort it demands.