The Heart Principle

by Helen Hoang

Dedicated to all the caregivers out there: those who care because they want to, those who care because they have no choice, and especially medical professionals during the COVID-19 pandemic, every single one

It’s out of consideration for life that I don’t keep any plants. I do have a pet. He’s a rock. His name is, very creatively, Rock.

I don’t question why people do things. I just observe and copy. That’s how to get along in this world.

Once, when I showed up early to a party, I literally caught the host with his pants down. And his girlfriend’s face in his crotch. That wasn’t fun for any of us.

Eye contact scrambles my brain so I can’t think, and this is a handy trick to make it look like I’m doing what I should. Ask me what her moccasins look like.

Is anyone really living their life or are we all reading lines from a giant script written by other people?

People like me better when I make them feel good about themselves. So I’m constantly assessing her reaction and editing my words to appeal to her.

I don’t like lying. I do it all the time, though. The harmless little lies that make people feel nice. They’re essential for getting along in society.

All I want to do right now is curl up on my couch in my ugly fluffy bathrobe, get delivery, and watch BBC documentaries narrated by David Attenborough.

A running addict. If my mom caught me doing drugs, she’d chase after me with a clothes hanger—she wouldn’t catch me, though.

But now I’m scarred and slightly damaged. I’m not what I was.

When I turn around, my eyes widen at how my butt has grown. A pity. Julian would love this, though he wouldn’t approve of my methods. I didn’t drink protein shakes and spend hours in the gym doing donkey kicks and squats. These curves are made of Cheetos.