Tuesday, June 12, 2012

The heart is magic/ tragic.

If there's anything I will never understand, it's why the human heart is so insane? I mean, one second you could have a machete in your hands hacking your way through a train station and not giving a fuck about whose Aunt is laying on the ground in a sputtering, wet mess or what clergyman will have to return to his flock missing two of his fingers because he really, really assumed that a hand made of flesh and bone was an adequate shield against a finely sharpened two foot blade.

However, the next minute the human heart is sitting on a leaky canoe heading toward the falls. It knows it won't be able to fight the force of the water, but yet it still beats as if it has even the slightest chance in Hell. It tells itself that it will make it and once it hits the calmer parts of the river everything will be fine and then it'll be able to sit with its amazed friends and retell the story dozens of times over a few rounds of microbrews. Everyone will most certainly laugh and a good time will definitely be had by all in the room.

Do you remember your teenage years when you had a pretty intense crush on someone, but for some reason you couldn't figure out, they didn't feel the same way about you? On the flip side, maybe you were the apple of someones eye, but you had no interest in them? That's real pain that the beholder tends to feel. You've known it, your sister has known it, your mom has known it at some point. We all know it, but we all do the same thing... we try to focus our minds on happier things or mindless distractions or meaningless flings. Real, excruciating pain and the attempted avoidance of it makes this happen. Some have described this particular feeling as a knife going through their heart. Others have said their heart felt like it was crushed beneath the weight of a tank. Either way, no matter what words are chosen, it all boils down to the same feelings: despair, lonliness, and becoming self critical. Nobody likes this. Nobody wants this, but settling for sadness is some sort of wicked phase that is as normal as learning to ride a bike or finally beating the end level boss and getting the high score. It has to happen and happen it will.

My friends, if I can call you that... we all have these stupid beaters in our chests and we'll all get ours fucked up into oblivion at some point. There's no avoiding it, so don't try. I mean, there are some people in the world that never seem to be heartbroken. If one relationship goes south, they readily attract a new admirer to fawn over them and keep that beating heart as numb as it could possibly be without stopping entirely. They replace any heart functions with physical pleasures. "Ooh... put it in my ass now, yeah." Those folks are what I refer to as empty shells and it don't matter if you're packin' a penis or pussy. If you're an empty shell, trust me when I say that I know you're full of shit. I know that you absoloutely have to numb yourself to stay sane, but when you finally do break... I'm sure all nearby low laying towns will have to evacuate to avoid drowning in your stupid tears.

Me? I'm canoe bound all the way. I get attached to the feeling of love and the feeling of knowing that there's somebody that gives a shit about you and just wants to hug and squeeze you until you pop. If given the choice of endless money or endless love... I'd blow up every bank in the city and hold the hand of my lady while we laugh at how high the flames travel. I'm happy with one true person. (She can't be too fat either)

There are variations of folks like me. The one that most readily comes to mind is the person who is mad at the one they love and in a single, poorly planned moment, jeapordize their romance and have an affair. I have a few thoughts on this behavior, but the only one I feel like mentioning is that if you are involved in a relationship and you seek pleasure outside of it, then it's time to place the old romance in a bag and leave it at the curb awaiting pick up. I was married for a very long time and contrary to the belief of my ex wife, I was faithful to a fault. I should have acted upon so many sexy invitations, but I didn't because I'm either an idiot or a good man. The jury is still out on that one. Anyway, what happens if you do decide to cheat? What happens if the person you've innappropriately laid with wants to spend more time with you? What if you dream of spending more time with that person? What if you sit around and replay that one special night over and over in your head? What if you look at your lover and want to tell him or her that you've cheated because you're racked with ten million pounds of guilt? Should you tell them? I say no because it could only do more harm than good. It doesn't "clear the air" or "start a clean slate" no way, that type of talk is for assholes. Confessionals only serve to reinforce suspicions forever, make pure moments awkward, and create the possibility of losing the one you love (but if you actually loved that person, why cheat in the first place?)

Well, that's all for me right now. I'm going to relax in my empty nest and give my bottle of tequila a warm hug before I become vampiric and suck its blood until it becomes... an empty shell. Thanks for listening.

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