Saturday, August 27, 2011

Organs In Constant Conflict

When the ventricle of a conflicted heart is misaligned and unsynchronised to the atrium, it's chaotic. It's a blood carnival without the war costume, a minor catastrophe of mixed emotions, a four storey building after a happy hurricane. But when the two most vital organs, inhabiting the body of a relatively serene organism, disagree, then you're screwed all over, and you have no other option but to listen very carefully to what they both have to say.

Because the brain and the heart, they have a mind of their own. They never agree on anything, and when they do, it's almost ridiculous. When one says "yes", the other says "no". When one whispers "do it", the other screams "please don't". It's an unrepeated case of it's not you, it's me. Like hell it isn't. It's a bloodbath battle of opposites. Black, White. Dark, Light. Edward, Jacob. Fear, Courage. Stay, Go. Shut up. Do yourself both a favour and just shut up. Please.

Because ultimately, what it all comes down to, is the almost compromise, a pair of red boxing gloves, and a final fight to settle the score. The winner is the last organ standing. And if it's a tie, then you should just forget it and go with your gut. Some decisions are already clear cut anyway. Or at least, they used to be.

Life is full of unknown uncertainties, but its immensity is constant. It's always there. Just like the conflicts between the brain and the heart, and the disagreements between the little angel and the little devil on your left and right shoulder. Truth be told, a lot of things in life are constant - the colour of your eyes, gravity, the speed of light, love. Yes, love is the ultimate constant. When everything else around it changes, it doesn't, it refuses to. It just stays still.

So it's decided, while my brain and my heart continue to beat the crap out of each other, love will be my go-to constant. Because no matter where I am or what I'm doing, I know I will love you forever.

Because you are my constant.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Closer, Further Apart

Two syllables. One word. Good-bye. You can say it, prolong it, or even foreplay it, but what you absolutely cannot do, is avoid it. But let's say you do, let's say that in an attempt to be brave (or otherwise), you do try to avoid it, eventually, it's bound to come bite you in places you don't want to be bitten. Because the ironic truth is, there is nothing so good about the inevitable goodbye. Nothing. But then again, nothing is a strong indefinite pronoun. There must be something, anything, or else you wouldn't feel the need to say it, prolong it, or even foreplay it, in the first place.

And yes, something could be anything, whether it's boredom, death, freedom, suffocation, or simply the thought of a better life, if you are willing to cut down on the constant need to sabotage your own happiness that is. And if you really think about it, so hard your brain starts dancing rhythmically on its own, goodbye could easily mean the start of something new, the start of something more fulfilling. Now that goodbye is easy to confront.

The hardest goodbye, on the other hand, is the one you don't say to the blurry familiar silhouette still standing right next to you. The hardest goodbye, if you ask me, is the one currently left unspoken.