"My heart is in chaos."
It's almost impossible not to understand that line metaphorically. My guess is that most human beings assume the party so threatened intends to document just exactly why it is that he or she is so emotionally rent.
In fact, the peculiar combination of words in that sentence even characterizes the speaker. He's not a gang-banger, or someone from Fargo. She's not the kid who delivers pizza or anyone wearing a cut-off t-shirt.
Feels poetic, almost Shakespearean. Seems to me it's a line we may not even trust entirely, just a smidgeon hyperbolic, over-the-top. It's almost comic--Marty Python-esque.
"My heart is in chaos." My first reaction is to roll my eyes. That kind of thing.
"My heart is in chaos," mumbled John Farrington Noblesse, flaring his epilettes and tightening his sash. He pushed his sword back in its scabboard and squared his shoulders. "Certainly you heard me, Sir Michael," he said once more, something akin tears pinching his face. "I said," he repeated, "my heart is in chaos."
That sounds about right. Or this.
Samantha brought her delicate wrist to her forehead and bit her lower lip lightly. "My heart is in chaos," she said, as if every word were precious.
Here's what I'm thinking. "My heart is in chaos," is a line that has far more value metaphorically than literally. In fact, the only way to understand it is poetically.
But it's what the doctor told me yesterday, before a stress test and after it.
Not to worry, however. I'm not in any trouble. A few extra pills and then that chunk of muscle needs what amounts to electrical rebranding. No big deal, the doctor says.
So here's my line for the morning: my heart is not in chaos because my heart is in chaos.
Figure on it--that one will be on the test.