The Restless Heart

Restless hearts are merely those who believe in something earth shattering.

A nauseating truth. I am wretched in the trappings of my belief in something truer than what I am continually faced with.

Belief, in itself, is a sort of blind disgust that trickles through my life, like fanciful self-inflicted delusions of a more aesthetic love. Ideas that both motivate and repel me.

Ah, but my heart is forever sixteen. Forever lost in romantic expectations of soul to soul connections. And yet I am terminally bound to thwart conformity at all cost. Even that of love, and to the point of sabotage.

I could easily forgive life it's perpetual letdowns if it did not so forcefully wound my heart. And at every possible chance, it seems.

But to all ends there is always a realization; an epiphany to the grand scheme:

That if, for only a moment, there was a spark. A sudden comfortable electricity that brought a lusted hope to the jaded. And then simply faded... leaving merely the intense desire for a new start.

For that is the belief, no... addiction of the Restless heart.