Abscond » h.s.

i- tear in my heart

"A heart has problems, in which the mind cannot understand."

In fourth grade human science, I heard that the human heart is the body's strongest muscle.

And it's hard to believe that, especially in times like these, where I feel like my world is not even in existence right now. Like I'm not even here.

I sat there, for an extra five minutes before Ms. Denim told me to leave and go have lunch, and thought of the human heart and wondered how it could possibly be the strongest muscle.

And wondered if she was just bullshitting me or not.

Yeah, I mean of course the heart was important. It keeps you alive. It allows blood to travel around in your body. And it gives you the dissatisfaction of feeling emotions you don't necessarily want to feel.

But how do we humans know that the heart is the strongest muscle? Or a muscle at all?

All I know about the human heart now, though, is that mine is personally beating five-hundred beats per minute.

The plane flight was horrible. It kept going through turbulence that made me think we were gonna crash, the kid that sat next to me had pimples on his pimples and played his bloody rap music too loud, and every time I went to go take a wee, another individual would beat me to the lou, and I sat down again waiting for the next person to leave.

It was a never ending cycle of thinking I would wet myself, either from thinking we'd crash or from not urinating for the past fourteen hours.

(Plus, I had the outer seat and my elbows would be hit from the beverages attendant.)

The beat of my heart finally decreased after I had got off of the plane and into the terminal, I seen a young man with shaggy, brown hair, blue eyes, and only about 5'9.

"HARRY! HARRY MATE! IT'S ME! LOUIS- HAR- oh sorry, excuse me. HARRY!"

I felt like kissing the land below my feet, thinking every God in the universe that I made it safely to New York, my new home.

I walked up to my best friend, whom I haven't seen for five years, wrap my arms around his shoulders and inhale his scent, the scent of what my new life would smell like, "Louis! Lad, how are ya? Haven't seen ya in so long!"

He smelt like coffee and cigarettes. But an expensive brand of coffee, and only there was only a slight smell of cigarettes radiating off of Louis.

"Dammit, I thought I'd catch up to you by now." He took notice in our height differences, the top of his shaggy brown hair reached up to my nose. I laugh, a light laugh, still not completely comfortable in this situation.

"I thought Zayn was going to pick me up?" That was what we arranged anyway.

"Yeah, well, Zayn got a wee bit drunk last night," he shrugs, taking my suitcase. And I let him because I know it's not that heavy, I mean I literally have two shirts, a pair of jeans, one sock, (not even a pair of socks)and magazine I stole from the terminal since I was an hour early for my flight.

"-but don't worry, he'll be fine. He's a big boy, and when after you get settled in, we can bang the pots and pans, while watching Spongebob on maximum volume. I'm sure he'll feel like shit for getting piss drunk and not being able to pick you up. But we'll be able to use that as an advantage later on when he steals the remote."

I laugh, but it's barely auditable, it's all I could to at this point. Laugh, as if everything is fine, like we were seventeen again.

But, we're not.

tht was so shitty, I apologize. But I promise it will get better. I have such great ideas for this story.