Ain't it weird that something emotional can trigger something physical in your body. A racing heart can indicate anything from a panic disorder to something much more serious. A heart that skips a beat could be either a sign of secret affliction or it could indicate romance, the biggest trouble of all. Overall at times a heart seems to be like a box of porcelain given to us at birth.
Some handle it carefully, fearful of breaking it they don't even want to use it so they shield it with a blanket, put it in a bigger box and place it at the back corner of the closet. Every once in a while they take it out just to make sure it is still there beating before they shield it again and put it back because porcelain is vulnerable and gets easily broken.
Some don't even care about it that much. They were forced to have it and it feels strange and foreign in every way. They don't know how to communicate with it or what to use it for so they place it wherever it fits, show it to whoever wants to see it and don't worry about breaking it that much. After all, it's just a remnant they were forced to have.
Then there are people that are so, so proud of it. They know it's unique, unlike any other piece of porcelain in the entire world and they guard it with their life yet adore every inch of it. Sometimes it reminds them of something and makes them a little sad but they can still see the beauty in it all. They handle it carefully yet always putting it out for show when someone is worth it.
It seems we have no control whatsoever over our own hearts. Our condition can change without warning. Romance can make our heart pound just like panic or panic can make it stop cold in your chest. It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever and I can't help but to wonder - if heart was a concrete object outside of our bodies to be carried around with our own two hands... would we treat it differently? Would we let it go with strangers? Would we wear it on our sleeve or where would wee keep it? Would we bear to give it to anyone at all?