Hearts are nice but they're also pesky, fickle things. Annoying, little bastards. Sure they keep your blood pumping but in a figurative sense, that idiotic way we symbolize human organs, they’re like cumbersome weights on our ribs. Dumb-bells. From this pit originates a lot. Our hearts turn into our own treasure chests where we stash away our secrets and the feelings that we won’t show even those we trust.

We stash away those emotions like the little hoarders we are. But you know what the worst part about having a heart is? Other than the masochistic way we bottle them up so they can fester and bruise? We’re all just sad horses being dragged around by the reins. As much as we’d like to think that they’re our emotions and we own them, when it comes down to it, we’re just broken in steeds. Saddled up with fear, love, worry, regret, anger, hope and the rest of them at the saddle. They say, “Follow your heart!” Well I’ve been tracking that sucker for years and it has got me in quite the rut. The kind of pain and suffering these jerks have put us through has been hell. And that’s why I say that those select few, the gifted, the free, those who have done away with their pests, have the advantage. They’re the real champs. We all know the type. Those people who won’t let you get close and guard themselves like they’re at war. In stressful moments, they’re eerily calm and are strong, aloof, and sometimes cruel in nature.

We usually fall in love with them.

But it must be so convenient to not have to be concerned with such mundane issues because they’re the smart ones that froze over their hearts before life and people had the chance to toss it around. Or maybe in reaction to this hot-potato game life plays with our souls. They are coated in iron and fire, a dragon guarding its loot.

And what do we do? What humanity always circles back to. We do not like these people because we don’t understand them. They frighten and frustrate us because we demand so desperately from them what they can’t give. We’re all a bunch of bullies that get annoyed when the poor nerd won’t scream or cry. They have the power to turn us upside-down without lifting a finger. And that’s why, compared to these exotic beings, we’re vulnerable. Weak as hell. Our only chance of getting a leg up is the idea that maybe, deep down, they’ve got it all locked away too.