Can a heart truly be known?

We love for different reasons, with different nuances. We love our god, our parents, siblings and friends, we love our pets. We love humanity in what is generally a rather distant way. The love that looms largest in most lives is that for a mate. In all of these, the other party knows something of our heart, but can anyone really know all of us? Can we know ourselves completely?

I'd like to think I know myself well, but recent conversations with a person whom the term dear friend dosn't begin to describe have given me pause. I find myself reexamining things about myself that I held to be immutable. This sort of soul searching is difficult at best but long overdue; I'm nothing if not a procrastinator.

There is a tendency among many these days to label as whining any talk of one's emotional needs; I'm not sure why. We are emotional creatures and that part of us needs nourishment as surely as our bodies need food. Using that analogy, my soul is quite literally starving to death. I remember a time in my life when I was sated, but that was a very long time ago.

Restoring emotional health will take a lot. It will involve some pretty heavy moral demolition and not a little disruption in my life. It will involve pain and change; two things most of us are loath to encounter. I haven't yet decided on a fixed course of action, only that there is a great need for action. Inertia is a powerful thing, especially when allied with fear. It will take a depth of strength I'm not sure I possess to overcome them.

Another friend told me once:

When you get up in the morning, the best that can happen that day is that all your dreams are realized. The worst that can happen is you die. Everything between is small stuff.

I think that might be a good mantra for me right now.