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Le Coeur.
7 pounds.





A human heart weighs approximately 7 pounds. That’s about 250 to 350 grams of open space. I always wonder how impossibly suffocating it is, to occupy so much of everything in such a small space.

My tiny heart, the size of my pathetic fist, encased inside my brittle ribs has suffered over years of broken dreams, half-hearted promises, redundant heartaches, bad weather, “i-told-you-so’s”, smoking, drinking, falling in love, falling out of love, “forever’s”, “not meeting expectations”, envy, lust, jealousy, pride, flirting to not feel, sleeping just to shut everything, music and movies to drown you to not think, being so alone you just can’t cry anymore, being too happy just by waking up, plane rides to new places, babies’ toothless grin, loving pets, long roadtrips, sweet tight hugs, double rainbows, weddings, divorce, new books on stacks, fresh peonies and lilies, hand written letters, meeting new strangers, falling for strangers, crying for strangers—— the list ultimately goes on.

But how can our tiny heart take so much of it?

My heart feels both weightless and heavy. It occupies my entire universe, everything that is both transparent and hidden to my very identity. But at the same time, I feel it almost exploding, like the stitches of my veins are almost ripping bit by bit.

Memories aren’t part of our heart, but the mind is a culprit of our control, and the heart’s both trusty friend and worst enemy.

We take in memories, like tiny leaves blowing through the wind, smiling as it exquisitely beguile us. But like all weather sometimes, nature’s beauty gets stripped off by too much rainstorms. I remember every pain lurking about my mind, but my heart makes me remember how vivid it is, to be hurting alone.

I remember every joys there are, spilling all over me. But my heart relives the sensation for me, like it was just yesterday. I remember every broken promises ever spoken to me. But my heart knows how trusting and loving someone can be two different things.

7 pounds.

Millions of pieces of who you are, all of whom you can be and wished you were, lodged inside a tiny pensive-like prison—Heart; a hoarder of human complexities.