Scribbles at Heart

That hurts.

I muttered at the time, thinking that it was not just a turmoil. If I were an animal, I would hasten myself as far as I could, shun its pains or if I had to, I’d howl. Maybe I did howl, right before I had passed out. But what interesting, I had a second thought of remaining. This is what we humans do. First we hold on to our jumbles. Then we believe we could get something out of them, afterward we get used to them, then we like them. No we actually don’t. We thought we liked them because we’re so familiar with them. What really happens is, they always crush us to pieces, yeah, as usual. Or maybe not us, only our hearts. That’s probably worse. Animals must have thought that we humans were so stupid.

We are.

There are times when I am unfeigned. And that was one of them. I believed that any person should always cheer up someone they cherish. But what would they do when they find out that their cheers were slapped by a simple outburst? What should they do? Run away like I would, or hold their breath? An animal would run.  I maybe one, and I still wonder if it was by choice.

When a heart speaks, it wants what it wants. It maybe triggered by hormones, it could be offered kindness, it might be put up by a beautiful face, it sometimes was threaten by sweet talks. But the heart wants what it wants. Does one have to follow a heart, or it must be ruled by its master? By then, would that make the master heartless?