The Heart Not On My Sleeve

last night before i fell asleep i was thinking about my heart, not the one that belongs to an ex-lover, but the tangible one that's sitting in my chest cavity, beating, and working to sustain my life. i have no control over this, it is completely involuntary (although i've read people can meditate and slow their heart rate down to like two beats per minute - i'm not one of those buddhist monks though, and dear reader i doubt you are either) and even though i've known this for quite sometime i was surprised because life is really very voluntary, especially for those with access to a gun, a piece of rope, a plastic bag, a train, a knife, a plethora of pills, a car and garage, or a tall building with roof access. and while the ease of suicide is depressing - paired with the fact we can so easily slip into a bout of sadness with lingering suicidal thoughts, the fact of the matter becoming even more depressing - i found myself rather optimistic about life because lying in my bed, alone for the first time in nights, i knew that tomorrow i'd wake up and go out there and my heart would already be beating for me!