"But there are no hats no scarves for the heart,
just the cold wind that leaves its frosted mark..."
So it would be a hard week this week – if those little square boxes were right – hard, because rainy weather made her seasick and lonely. And she was already on the edge of a dark and swilling sea.
If only there were little boxes for her heart. Well it isn’t your heart is it? She thought. It’s your brain that feels all these things. But sometimes the ache seemed so thick inside her chest she questioned the accuracy of science in its understanding of the way humans experience emotion. Perhaps, she thought, there are undiscovered receptors of emotional pain within the pericardium which send signals to the cerebral cortex. Wherever the pain came from, the point is, she thought, wouldn’t it be useful to have a forecast for the week ahead. You might be feeling black and downtrodden and under a bag of cement on Tuesday, but hey look at Thursday, a sudden joy front might bring unseasonal contentedness with warm breezy happiness. By Friday there may be some low mood cover with some afternoon depression, but that would be clearing by Saturday with more joy to last throughout the weekend.
But is it really any use to know? What raincoat, what umbrella could you use for your heart (or whatever it was that stored and created your emotions)?
Do other people get so bogged down with it all, she wondered?
And what are we all actually DOing anyway? We get up. We go to work. We exercise. We eat. We talk. We wait. We fill our lives with things to do to try to make ourselves feel like our lives are actually worth something. It’s all so fucking monotonous all this fucking waiting.
What do other people do while they wait?! She wondered. Are they happy that this is it: This house, this job, this town, this meal, this hour of waiting in the rain?