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I'm looking for a little blue notebook. It happens to contain my heart. I carried it around for several years, and each word could just as well be written in my own blood. I stowed it away somewhere. It was only there to be written in, not read. Only there to feel, not be felt. If ever a word escaped, I smiled and apologized and hurried to brush it aside. Today I thought of it, and a few of the words I sealed inside. I need the words. Sometimes hearts need to be felt and read and soak up the blood that has been bled for other causes. To inspect the scars and be reminded that what healed before will heal again. To see the beauty of what has been born through blood and sweat and tears. You won't find my little blue notebook. It is hidden somewhere here closest to my chest. But I need to find it. I need to take a peek at my heart to make sure it is still beating.