24 Inch War

By Feature and Opinions Editor Cian Walsh

On average, there is approximately 24 inches between the brain and the heart. In the ballpark of two ruler lengths is all that separates one’s desire and one’s rationale. They are neighbours in a sense, but even still, they are millions of miles apart. The brain sits high on its throne, looking down on the heart for all its shortcomings. The brain separates itself from the intricacies of addictive anatomy. The brain stays away from the smoker’s lung, from the alcoholic’s liver, from the lover’s heart. All the while sitting with the burden of navigating all three through their failures. The brain has no one to speak to but itself in times of silence. When the body sleeps, the heart can simply keep working. Beat by beat, it fulfils its contract to its fellow organs. However, the brain is left awake some nights while all its brothers and sisters may rest at ease. The brain is forced to endure the dreams of all those beneath it. The other night, the brain was forced to dream of a tiger chasing the host around an empty school. As always, the brain used its rationale to deduce that a trip to the zoo the previous day had something to do with it. It also recalled what it saw a few nights previous where the old secondary school it refused to work in had its open day coming up. The heart asked the brain the following morning.

“What do you think that was about?”

The brain was already exhausted by the heart's antics after one single question. 

“The zoo and the open day, obviously.”

The heart wanted more than such a trivial set of meanings for what had been an exciting development to the host’s psyche. 

“What if they’re worried about something?”

The heart so innocently asked. Like many others, this heart was filled with worry. The kind of worry that emulates that of an oil trail from a gas tank. The brain heard this concern in the heart’s voice and rejected it immediately. The brain knew not to light the flame upon that trail. 

“It’s nothing, okay? Just a dream.” 

The heart wondered what it was that the brain was so afraid of. It wanted to understand what was so wrong with the feelings so human in nature. The brain always wondered why it was given the host it had. This host was unremarkable in nature. Its sense of spontaneity was limited, leaving the brain to do most of the heavy work day to day. The host was not like what you see in movies or magazines. More like what you would see in line at a pizza-by-the-slice place at three in the morning. The host sleeps too much, eats too little. All until it does the exact opposite of each. The brain felt responsible for a lot of this. It carries the burdens of another in a way. The brain never wanted to to feel this way but its central role in the ecosystem of this human being was undeniable. The heart accepted the host early on. The heart was happy to live where it did. The heart knew to hear out the points of its neighbours, for better or worse. The brain and heart argued a lot. They were always conflicted by each other’s ideals. If the heart wants what the heart wants, the brain wishes to have only what it needs. It needs reason, needs cause and effect while the heart longs for a beautiful sunset that day. The heart knows what the brain does for it and remains grateful for its effort to uphold certain notions such as love, grief, anger and the like. But, only for so long can the brain keep explaining dreams about tigers and secondary schools. Those seem like novelties and privileges to a brain like this one. 

“Are you sure it was just because of the zoo?” 

“What is it about a fucking tiger and school corridor that brings you such terror and agony?”

“I’m sorry I can see past what’s standing in front of me. How long will it take until you stop taking things at face value and actually consider possibilities?”

“Do not talk to me about consideration or probabilities, okay? That is my job. You can keep on loving and feeling while I’m left with the bullshit of reality.”

This happens all the time between them. They bicker like children trying to reconcile every small issue. Those issues span from bizarre dreams to eating habits to when the right time to say ‘I love you’ is. Every single day. 

“Why is it you believe that you’re the only one who has to deal with the real world? Why is it you that has to carry the weight of it all, and since when did it give you the right to treat the rest of us like dirt on the pavement?” 

It was rare that the heart would ask the brain a question like this. More regularly would it ignore the brain’s comments and hope they can counteract one another as a means to find balance for their host. The host is the main priority throughout all of this. Without a host, a heart cannot beat, and a brain cannot see the worst in the world. 

“Everytime we have this argument, you act like you’ve gained some sort of knowledge from the situation that I wouldn’t have already gathered maybe 4 crises ago. You are second to everything. You are constantly a step behind where I’ve been for what feels like a lifetime. When will you learn to just let me take the wheel on these things?”

“If you ever gave any thought to how I process things, you would realise that I’m not second to the mark. I’m where the real pain happens. I know every emotion that you’re afraid of better than you’ll ever know yourself”

“Again! With the constant meandering around ‘feelings’ and ‘pain.’ You are relentless in your ignorance to the world outside of yourself. You will drag out every ounce of emotion that I have the misfortune of having to understand.”

“I’m the only one of us who will really know what an emotion is.”

“Oh, please. I beg you to listen to yourself. If you could hear what I hear when you speak, you’d be hesitant to do it twice. You’ll exhaust every part of life for all its worth for your own sake. If someone puts a bullet in me, the host goes down right then and there. It’s lights out. If someone puts a bullet in you, you’ll just cry out every last beat until the host hasn’t a valve to breathe through.” 

“Maybe if someone did put a bullet in me, it would give you enough time to see there was more to your life than what you made of it. But, I’m being optimistic in thinking that even slowly bleeding out could give you enough time to gain some perspective.” 

All this over a dream about a tiger in a secondary school. The brain and heart would keep fighting for days on end. The host would simply have to suffer through all the cerebral and cardiogenic canonfire shot across a 24-inch-span. It hurt them as did it hurt the host. This fight would ease over time as they all did; but the brain and the heart never truly aligned in their ambition.