sense and sensibility

The Two Fridas, 1939 by Frida Kahlo.

My sense tells me to stop but my sensibility won't permit it. My heart and my mind fight a constant battle. It is a battle I can't win because a shattered heart cramps my emotional self and a defeated reason turns me into a blubbering idiot. But as I close my eyes and try to get a sense of what's around me I must confess that fear lives within me - what if I'm not capable of love anymore? What if all the love and passion that I once had are now gone? What if I wasted away all the feeling I had and now I am empty? I certainly feel like a hollow shell... if you put your hear to my chest you could probably hear the ocean...

This struggle between heart and reason is a battle that none can win. It's an everlasting war (or at least one I'll fight 'till the day I die).

These thoughts of emptiness and absence of feeling torment me. I want to feel again! I don't want to be this numb anymore. I guess I numbed myself to protect all of the little pieces that were left of me.

My soul is lost... it's buried deep inside this mortal coil we call body. It's locked away in a cold and dark place and it hungers to come back into tune with all of my senses and feelings; it longs to shine brightness and colour again and revive my withered body. My eyes, the windows to the soul, can once again be wide open and let in what's meant to be seen... I dont want to think of sense nor sensibility... I just want to live and feel life all around me... flowing through me.