My heart is this welcoming, generous, hopelessly romantic, all-encompassing thing that wants nothing more than to sit happily upon my sleeve, find the love of its life and spoil them rotten and treat them like a goddess. It loves everyone and everything, no matter how much hurt has been caused against it.

 My brain on the other hand is an over analytical, dark, brooding, and sadistic fuck that loves nothing more than to watch my heart shrivel and shriek in pain while at the same time causing my stomach to churn and my body to shiver with insecurity and doubt. It has no soul and distrusts everyone it meets.

 But my heart, for however loving and truly caring and wonderful it is, is also fairly resilient (or very, very stupid). It doesn’t give up no matter how much my brain says it will. My heart will break and bleed and cry, but it will always find another someone to yearn for, someone to care for unconditionally for no other reason than its need to do so; even if the current object of my heart’s affection does not have a heart that feels the same.

 Fucked up, though the relationship between my heart and head may be, the only thing that will ever truly satisfy my brain is my heart being truly satisfied. Deep down, my brain wants to know love as much as my heart craves it.

 This overwhelming sense of satisfaction is not only a nearly hopeless dream; it is also my greatest life goal.