I threw my heart away once. What did I need it for anyway? I wore it on my sleeve and it just got dirty. I gave it to another and it'd end up broken. Perhaps it just wasn't any good. Perhaps people could see a little sticker on its side telling them that this heart was passed its prime. So I did what you do with things that have gone bad: I threw it out.
It isn't so bad really, living without a heart. Most of the time you hardly realize it's gone at all. Every once in awhile an emotion may come to the doorstep where your heart once lived but it would soon forget why it had come in the first place and slowly turn back from whence it came. It really isn't so bad.
But if that's the case why am I doubting myself? Why am I beginning to wonder if I made a mistake? I already know the answer. She's smiling at me. This random stranger, this beautiful stranger, is smiling at me and for the first time I can feel the emptiness. Like swimming in a warm lake and suddenly coming across that cold spot. The illusion of warmth breaks with a slow and icy shock. Living without a heart isn't so bad, but it isn't so good either. It's just nothing.
In the end, is the happiness really worth all the pain? Then my thoughts turn back to that girl. That girl and her coy smile and a look as if she could see something no one else could. Maybe she could. But what was she seeing that I've been missing?
I need to find that heart.
I need to ask it something.