The terror of a free heart.

The most terrifying part of my adult life at the moment is a free heart. A perfectly raw, healthy, pounding, bright red one with the comfort of independence, a safety belt of true inexperience. I have a secret defensive strategy to protect my own freedom from vulnerability. Ironic, isn't it?

The fear sucks. I'm going to sucker punch it in the face. Set fire to it with my eyes. Rebel against the system of fear, of an almost too at-peace-comfort, afraid to get sucker punched back or roundhouse kicked in the jaw.

On the other hand, I'm grateful for a time to fly, I suppose. I imagine those animations or drawings of a heart with wings, flying around in the sky. You never see it stop flying to touch the ground. You never see it find a solid home in someone's soul. Eventually, it would be nice to come back down.

And, at times, I have a sudden urge to roundhouse kick something in the jaw. But never a person, or a person's heart. Maybe a fear of knowing such things so freely.

Today was brought to you by anarchy.