Picture this: Blood rolling down the sides of a hand; it drips down splashing delicately onto the top of a foot; a heart pumps to the beat of a metronome. The cuff of your shirt sleeve is dyed a deep pinot noir. The room is silent, save for the pulsating beat of that metronome and the slow drip-drip-drip crashing to the floor. It's the sort of silence that causes you to hear everything. With each passing moment the risk of infection increases, so you can't wear it out for too long. You might die — so we don't do it. We don't risk our health in hopes of clinging tightly to our humanity. We want to last a bit longer. Don't worry that we might not be living at all. But we all die anyway, so what's the difference? The difference is all in how it happens. Most people don't want to die of a broken heart, dried out, raw from waiting outside too long. We don't wear our hearts on our sleeves because we can't.
"Hearts were made to hold only blood." - Hour of the Wolf
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