Heartbeats

Have you ever sat in silence with yourself, to the point where you are aware of your own heartbeat?

You can feel the blood coursing through every part of your body—feeling its warmth, feeling it renew itself and flow on, over and over again.

You know it is what keeps you alive; you know that if it were to stop, you would die.

Then you feel a weight in your chest, a pressure, as if the entire weight of the world were resting upon your heart. 

You think, and your mind spins in the darkness of the night, just like the blood coursing through your body.

Then you wonder: what would it taste like?

You plunge your hand into your chest and tear out your heart; you don't take the time to look at it—you take a bite.

You feel the warmth of the blood dripping from your mouth, yet the only flavor you perceive is nostalgia; you can taste nothing but your happiest times.

That taste fills your mouth and slowly settles in your stomach, but it no longer fills your chest—you no longer have a heart; you sacrificed it for a few final seconds of happiness.

Then everything turns black.

Then you can no longer think of anything.

Then you can no longer feel your heartbeat.