Edgar Allen Poe summed it up for me quite nicely: “Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.”
For all you bleeding hearts, this is not over the loss of a man, or the desire for one for that matter. It’s about desire in general. We want what we want and it doesn’t matter how much we try to talk ourselves out of it. A new job, an expensive gadget, vacation, a friendship…. It doesn’t matter what it takes to get it or if it won’t fit the image in our heads later. At the end of the day we just know that we crave SOMETHING. And even if we don’t know what it is, we still hunger for it. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like voids, not in the slightest. And I try my best to fill those voids with whatever I can find. It could be a lover, a new hobby, food or a new found passion. It’s a draining practice and not one too gentle with my heart. Most of my own heartaches are of my own design… but I’ve had help in that department too.
I tend to develop passions quite frequently. Like most quick blazing passions, the fizzle sets in early and doesn’t look quite as shiny and appetizing after the fact. I just find something new to obsess over. Something to consume my thoughts. And I’ll give it my all and examine it from a million and fifty different angles, pro and conning it and making myself sick to death over it. It’s my process you see.
Yea, I need a new hobby. Hence the problem.
I don’t know what I’m looking for this time, but it’s knawing away at me. And my heart always takes control of my mind. It’s hard for the brain to displace what the heart wants and like I said, I’m terrified of my heart.