Foolish heart

Dear lurking lurkers,

How come the heart can cloud ones judgement so? It is just an organ. A bloody muscular organ, pumping blood through the blood vessels. Beating in an off-beat rhythm. Clouding the head with foolish thoughts, causing awkward and absurd feelings. Prompting the muscles of the mouth to curl and lock in a disturbing smile. Eyes that gleam up like the reflection of the sun upon the deep waters. Cheeks becoming warm and a shade of red. Every fiber of your being is coerced by the heart to express with ridiculously strange behavior. Almost spastic. Delusional. Irrational. Klutzy. It controls the rest of your time. You try to fight it, but it is pointless to resist. For you are overtaken by foolishness. Overtaken by a foolish heart.

And why? Because he offered a drink? He, who noticed you from across the bar and saw you eating your bowl of soup in the corner all by yourself like the socially-awkward you are doomed to be. At first you don’t even hear what he says to you, do you? No, the fact that he calls out your name and grants you a casual greeting caused the darned heart to clog up those ears as well. You almost drooled as he kindly yet with a concerned look upon his face raises up a bottle of soda and asks you if you’re thirsty. You should’ve just said no. You should have. But you didn’t. Did you?! No. You just sat there, staring at his face while trying not to blush. And you nod and you smile as if he was saying the most beautiful speech in the world.

Before you knew it, he pours the soda for you into a cup and walks all the way over to where you sit across the bar. He smiles as he approaches you, asks if you’re alright. You nod again. You try your best not to smile to eagerly while not saying a single word. Because verbally interacting with anyone, especially when you find them somewhat attractive, is a skill you’ve never learned to grasp properly. It is pitiful. It is pathetic. And there he stands, just trying to be nice as he briefly rubs your back and hands you your soda.

The lock upon your lips finally unlocks and softly the words “Thank you.” escapes from them.

He smiles. You smile. The moment lasts merrily a split of a second. You feel warm and fuzzy and it’s not because of the soup. Or maybe it is just the soup. Because your palms are getting sweaty and you can feel sweat beads on the tip of your nose. It makes you uncomfortable.

“Best wishes to the misses. Enjoy yourself today!” you manage to say while your lips are still curled into a smile.

How weird that must’ve looked! It sure did for him. His expression slightly changed. His smile changed. He nods and thanks you and wishes you a good evening. And with that, he leaves you there all by your socially awkward-self at the corner of the bar.

Foolish heart.

No good can come of these absurd feelings. If only you had none… If only you could just shut them all down. Or at least he ones that are irrational and stupid. There are days when you pray to your Maker to remove your feelings and for Him to make you just as warmhearted as a machine. Some have considered you a cold computer, unable to feel. But despite those assumptions, your silly prayer has gone unanswered and will probably remain unanswered for all the rest of time.

Thankfully the head takes over from time to time. Instructing you to remain your distance, to avoid and otherwise ignore his presence. You even manage to forget about the silly childish feelings he evokes in you.

The night slowly becomes morning and the party slowly comes to an end. There are just a few people left. You sit with your relatives at the table, drinking your last cup of tea. Some are packing their stuff and prepare themselves to leave. And so is he. He walks over to you and briefly rubs your back and says goodbye. He does the same to everyone sitting at your table. And so does his wife.

Together they leave. And you sit there, frustrated that his presence still has such an impact on your foolish heart. 


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