I am a logician. A thinker, an analyzer, an operator.
So much so, that I usually identify with my mind the most.
I tell people I’m a head-over-heart person.
I think think think think think myself to self-destruction.
My mind is a machine, but a machine in overdrive.
I try to force patterns upon concepts that don’t naturally have them.
I think about things that aren’t there.
I worry.
Yet still louder than my mind is my heart.
People would be surprised to hear this from me, “the thinker.”
My heart’s voice truly is the loudest voice I ever hear.
My mind shrieks and yelps without pattern and rarely with rational reason.
My mind has jobs to do sometimes. Trust me, she does them well and diligently.
I do not doubt the mind’s importance. She has a role.
But my heart booms. Loud and consistent. Rhythmic.
In a piece of classical music, there’s multiple layers of sound.
My mind is the squeaky and atonal trumpet while my heart is the bass drum.
Dominant and robust.
Predictable, and never absent.
No matter what chaotic garbage is going on in the layers up above.
I close my eyes and try to feel every instrument playing.
There’s lots of them.
Different wavelengths and layers.
It’s funny; you have to listen really hard to hear the bass drum.
It’s not like the strings or even the woodwinds. Definitely not the brass section.
Because it’s not necessarily loud.
But it’s strong, significant, and never to be forgotten about.