[ WP ] Write about living in a body , but feeling like it is n't your body .

The heart is always seen as a part of who you are – part of your soul, or your identity. You learn something by heart, or love something with all of it, or you can follow it, or someone can break it. And I never believed it. It ’ s an organ, an organ whose purpose is to pump blood around the body to keep it functioning. Its only link to the brain – to thought or emotion – was to keep it beating. So you wouldn ’ t die. 
 
 But it ’ s like there ’ s a hole in my chest. A gap that nothing can fill. It ’ s not a physical gap – I know that. There couldn ’ t possibly be, and that ’ s kind of the problem. But it ’ s like I ’ m not me. Like, before, I loved music – it would fill me with something I can ’ t quite explain, and change the way I felt, both in my body and my head. I guess you could say I loved it with all my heart. Because now, it ’ s just noise; bass and drums and haunting melodies have no effect. It ’ s like I ’ m numb. 
 
 So I lie in my bed, still and slightly scared. Because I ’ m not me anymore. That little organ that pumped blood around my body and kept me alive also kept me who I was. But now the strange little thing that beats in my chest belongs to someone else – some guy who died in a car crash, or cancer, maybe, or a freak canoeing accident. I don ’ t know, because he kept his donation anonymous. All I know is that it ’ s not mine, and I don ’ t feel like me. The heavy price for this stranger ’ s gift, the gift of life, is that I just honestly don ’ t know who I am any more. 

