Difficult Questions

Of all the things to not trust, why is it we can’t trust our hearts?

Some people say, “Follow your heart,” but half the time my heart wants to jump off a cliff just to experience the adrenaline and wind rushing past my face. My heart wants to swim across the ocean and find an island where I can live alone or with my pet hedgehog for the rest of my life. My heart wants me to drop everything in life and be a musician and writer (now that is not so crazy). My heart wants to enjoy this little snippet of history it is a part of, and it will go to any lengths to experience it to the fullest extent possible.

My heart wants to tell a million pretty women that they’re beautiful every day. It does once or twice, but my head knows that if I say it to every beautiful woman, the words will lose meaning, and all the women will be left thinking, “That means nothing more than him saying ‘hello’ because we can’t all be beautiful.” Guess what ladies, you can and you are.

But I digress…

The funniest thing about the heart is that it can make the head believe nearly anything it wants to. It casts shadows and sees murderous silhouettes in a room that one person claims is haunted. It hears a joke told by a significant other and amplifies the hilarity by a thousand times when the same joke told by an unwanted acquaintance is appalling, or only mildly humorous, at best. It turns a three-foot gap into a canyon when you need to jump over it, and the sky a deeper shade of blue when a loved one passes away.

My heart likes to show me the world one way, and my head interprets it with utter disregard for the two-dimensional simplicity it often operates in.

But just once, I’d like my heart and my head to be in harmony as I tell someone, “I Love You.” Love doesn’t make sense, but it does. Not that I would know. I’m just assuming at this point.

Love doesn’t make sense, but it does.

I can’t help but ask… Is that statement cerebral, or is it visceral?

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Michelle builds starships.

Sharing my story through a science fiction blog.

Paola Trimarco

Writer and Linguist


"I saw the Angel in the marble, and carved until I set him free"

Jo Writes Fantasy

Born in Poland | Living in Texas Now | Hype

Way Too Fantasy

Speculative fiction book reviews and more!

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