Of Hearts

I look back and I remember how my friends once told me over a chilly morning in October at school, how I am the worst at drawing hearts. I remember them saying how the two halves never resembled each other enough to convince anyone that it was a heart. Symmetry, they said, wasn't my forte.
As I draw, erase, and re-draw the heart over n over again I realize there was only truth in their sentences. May be I did suck at drawing hearts, maybe I sucked at understanding them too. The mechanisms that make it work smooth? My body mostly doesn't like it.

Maybe I have too much of a rebellious soul, the thought of which fucks me up because I? I don't even understand half the things. I've never understood how love works. I've never even understood what constitutes love. How two people feel so deeply for each other that they not only understand each others reasons but also appreciate the quirks. Why two people voluntarily already being complete wholes themselves choose to join the commitment wagon with another person. Perhaps I'm just scared. Or perhaps I'm just mirroring what I draw- stupid unsymmetrical hearts that convince no one of their reality and existence. Perhaps love too, is not my forte.