hearts that are heartless

hearts are complicated organs.

when i wanted to become a surgeon, i knew i'd choose neurosurgery.

there was something - something i haven't still defined - something the world hasn't yet uncovered - that makes a mind make a heart.

complicated, isn't it?

we look for answers where we know there are none.
we wait when we know someone isn't worth waiting.
we ask questions even when we have the answers.

neurosurgery felt like i was playing God. i would hold everything that makes a person a person in my hand.

i think deep down we all want to play God sometimes. that is the logical answer to "does God live in us?"

i'll never know what makes a heart a heart.

so we decided to undo our hearts.

when you want him, don't want him.
when you're happy, question that happiness.
when you're scared, punish yourself.

i blame my heart very often.

but should i?

should i blame it for wanting someone whose heart didn't want me?

should i blame it for sticking longer that i was welcome?

should i blame it for doing the exact thing i was meant to do?

i did. but shouldn't have.

hearts are complicated.

brains are more complicated.

but for some reason we choose to trust our brains more than our hearts.

and we applaud ourselves for it.

i wonder if God sits up playing God, looking down upon us as we undo what he made.

i wonder if it scares him.

i often imagine myself holding a brain in my hand.

sluggish. wet.

then i imagine how a brain exists forever in darkness.

the brain sees the world but doesn't love it.
the brain perceives the world but doesn't understand it.

hearts do.