Short Letter To My Heart.

Oh my dear heart.  You're a child still.  So quick you are to soar, to let the flicker of the meanest spark ignite the bonfire of your dreams.  So high you fly, despite my warnings, despite my attempts at bringing you under some sort of control.  Like a child running down the beach away from a concerned father you go, right into the surf, where all my dearest wishes wash ashore only to retreat again, away from me.

Whatever will I do with you, heart?  Why can't you be constant?  Why does every little piece of news have to excite you beyond reason?  Why can't you stop smiling and preparing seven speeches for every nomination you get for an award?  I sit there and berate you, and tell you to be humble.  I tell you not to be such a fool.  But you never listen.  Every night I sit with you in the disappointing aftermaths.  Every night I listen to you flutter.  Trying so hard to return to that strong steady thrum.  The hopeful beat, ready for the world, ready for any reason to begin to leap into the sky again.

But I know you won't listen.  You will always leap with delight and laugh like a child and hope so fiercely your grin cracks your face.  You will always do that.  Every disappointment only increases the height you climb the next time you soar.  You will always be a child, my heart.  Always.

And I love you for it.