We Are the Normal Ones: Memoirs of a Fallen Human

Hybrid Heart

My wrists were swollen. Not cut. Not bleeding externally. But it's obvious that it's bleeding inside. Just like me. No evidence outside that there's any deep pangs. Just internally. No one sees the blood dripping inside my ribs, escaping my heart. Draining it white.
White.
White.
No one wants a white heart.
But that's what mine is.
Will anyone love my white heart?
Who will love the heart that's white and red? My hybrid heart. Who will help me tend to it? Who will?
Who will when the hybrid hearts pumps too hard and leaves me immobile? No one? How come no one wants to? Is it that different? Is it that odd? That strange? I promise I can't be the only one with a mixed heart. The only one with a mixed brain; my brain is half my heart. That's why I'm so confused. My heart is half my brain. My hybrid heart. Someone help me nurture my hybrid heart. Someone mashed my heart and my brain together and begged it to work as one of it's own. It's constantly at war with itself inside me. I constantly tell them to shut up. Shut up shut up shut up shut up.
I don't know how else to make them stop besides to hurt myself. Maybe if the host body was in more pain than the war cause inside me.. Maybe they would silent themselves. But nope. All I have now is a swollen wrists. The bleeding inside showing that there is evidence of the pain I feel inside that's caused by my hybrid heart.