In ancient Daoist texts they used to use a word called Xin. Literally speaking the Xin is the heart. But in these books the Xin was where the thoughts came from. The heart was where we all decided how we were going to act and do and feel.
Man were the Chinese so fucking wrong about that.
And I'm not talking about the axons, neurons, oligodendrocytes that fill this all too thick jumble of bone precariously perched on this too long neck of mine. All I'm saying is that if my heart could think, if my heart could make choices and decisions and feel the way I told it to then it might be a little less heavy.
You see my heart is more like a stomach. He hungers and wants for those sugary sweets and fatty burgers I always told him would not be good for his health. I tell him that he is not allowed to indulge in what he wants. It will only hurt him in the end. People won't accept him when they see how different he is.
But you see my heart is heavy and my heart does want for those forbidden sweets. Right now I've got him locked up behind an all too thick cage of bone precariously perched under this too long neck of mine.
He'll get out when some boy finds the key.
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