[ adj. having an obstinately uncooperative attitude towards authority or discipline ]
My body is run by my head.
At least it should be, but my heart, a recalcitrant, stubborn and loud, reminds me to give her the throne.
When I fall in love with people and places, my head tells me not to desire for it. Lest I find myself crying when I have to say goodbye.
My heart, however, is obstinate, and wildly, it beats, for every smile I get and every garden that grows roses.
When I say the wrong word and use the wrong hand, when I embarrass myself in front of the people I adore, my head tells me to let go. Let go, let go, it chants and it reminds me that I am only human; a little dumb, like the rest of them.
My heart, the bully, cries and laments. 'A fool!' it calls me, over and over again. Until I feel the shame crawl under my skin, burning my face and making me cry. 'A fool!'
When I am euphoric, my head tells me it won't last. My heart tells me it will. And every time I'm sad and it seems like it'll be forever, my head calls me a silly girl. My heart calls me a grief-stricken soldier. A martyr, a poor, desolate soul -- with no one to cry tears for me but myself. My heart tells me I must cry forever.
There are times when I hate my heart.
Its sobs and complaints, its jeers, its compliments: they fall upon me, one after another until I become nothing but my feelings. Like the wind that cools and heats but never speaks and only whistles.
Sometimes I hate my heart. And I wish I could hate it forever.
But, my heart tells me I shouldn't. And like always, I listen.