Listen... We Need to Talk

Dear Heart,

We have been together long enough to know better, I would think. Maybe I shouldn’t assume the logical choice would stand out because you have never been one for logic. Emotional outbursts and irrational feels is your modus operandi and I am just a hostage to your own self-destruction.

I think you need to remember the times that I sat back in pain feeling you lower your worth. Discount yourself like two day old bread at the grocery store. I hated watching us fall for guys who didn’t know we existed. To them, we could’ve been a jackalope, a fictional creature that had no more worthy appearance.

You sat there in the chamber with spilled secrets because unlike a vault, you couldn't keep you to yourself. I tried to stop you like the designated driver trying to wrestle the keys from their alcohol soaked best friend. A friend that was ungainly, a tangle of uncoordinated limbs, more vodka and rum than blood with a single minded haze to be reckless. A dare devil with no padding, all striving to be stupid in inebriated illogical confidence. Every time I subject myself to be the test audience to your reoccurring pilot of half-baked heartbeats, I feel more like a colonizer trying to pass the rhythm off as authentic when it is the same drum track sampled by every person with a disconnected crush.

I hear it chime like a gong struck metal on metal, high and thready. Unstable and incongruent like lumpy sacks filled with miscellaneous rocks and bells. A sound that grates through the loudest of sounds like an elephant’s trumpet in a kindergarten crowd.

I know you're reading this you non- heart- shaped heart and it seems like I’m being cruel. In fact, as I collect my thoughts, I am. I am being cruel! But it is not because I am hateful and full of sour spite. I mentally care too much.

Each time you fought to be seen, fought for them to see the sweetness of an off white, toothy smile with eye crinkles. Fought for eyes to be lost in our pools of melted chocolate, warmed with the heat of our rich, traveling blood… I saw. I waited with bated breath. I was in the background. Since you’re known for emotional displays even though your displays are fueled by chemicals and irrational feelings, I relinquished lead.

I tried to make you give pause. Still wrestling for the keys to us clutched tight like a string of pearls at the shock of the offence? The audacity that I want to make you think? Use a moment to consider rationale instead of an abstract chemistry with plenty of theories and even more fallacies? All I could do is stomp off and try to process where I went wrong. Yet, you matched on, headstrong and fierce like an enraged bull mated with a south bound mule.

I have tried to remind you that we together work with involuntary reaction but I think you missed that day in biology… organic chemistry… anatomy.

Again, I don't hate you per say. I just hate how you don’t see your value. In ancient times, our robust shell would've indicated wealth and a life of leisure. Offers of considerable dowry would've been made! All for you to settle for gold colored glass and express hurt that the gold you had was fragile and not worth the sand it was melted from. Hurt that their true nature was on display like exhibits in a museum, each shown from multiple angles with specially curated lighting so no detail is spared.

I hate that I hear and filter the whispered comments of how we aren't desirable. As a lady, our trucker vernacular with a sailor’s dialect is hard to stomach but I can't fault you for that flaw. Speech is the one thing that truly leaves us before I can process the request. I wish I could console you when we are reminded that our viperish tongue betrays us more than your chemical theatrics. It’s hard to stop our ears from picking up the word “vulgar” and treating it like the spelling word of the week. Playing it in our inner ear like a number one song on the Billboard.

I want you to give pause for someone that stands out to us for not standing out. Someone that sees our rough edges like brownie corners; made from the same ingredients, both delicious but for different reasons and the pan contains both without sacrifice. A thick slice of fudgy goodness with black walnuts for character and texture with a innate ability to offer a slice of home with the aroma of long nights and shorter fuses.

So while I know that your area of expertise is experimental and mine is theoretical, they both have their places here. We need to find an appraiser that will take the time to examine us thoroughly, consider our flaws where they are and help us reestablish our value and worth. Maybe we'll provide more basis because with the self care and pep talks, we might actual appreciate.

So…
With me as the brains of this operation and you, heart, being the muscle, we may be able to do some deeply needed heavy lifting of our head, aggressive polishing of our crown and block the cracks of negativity that try to hammer on the anvil without care.
Either way, we need to figure this out before I lose what shred of sanity and logic I have and you lose the strength to move forward without turning back to champion regrets.

Either way, we have to make our dysfunction partnership steady like you with your marching tempo while I continue to stare ahead because I’m able to stay focused for the optimal result. We have made one hell of a team in recent past and I will deny ever saying something like this. Something so irrationally rational. Something so irritating mundane and disappointingly cliché, but…

I’ve got you. I have our best interests in mind and I'll keep driving to make us functional as a whole. All I need you to do is take my guidance as help, not hindrance. You've got this.


Sincerely,
Your best grumpy cheerleader,

The(your) Brain.