Blindspot

There are moments when I can’t reason with myself, when my heart pulls me in directions my mind can’t follow. It’s like a force beyond logic, beyond sense. I try to put it into words, but nothing fits. The heart doesn’t speak in the language of thought; it knows something deeper, something unnameable. I’ve spent nights convincing myself I don’t feel what I do, trying to fold my heart into neat lines of understanding. But the truth is, my heart knows things my mind can’t explain— and maybe it’s not meant to. Maybe some things are felt, not reasoned through or dissected under the weight of logic. Maybe that’s why love, grief, hope, and longing have always made fools of us all.