from the heart

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. da dum da dum da dum
not the Jaws soundtrack. it's my heart. there have been few times in my life where i can specifically remember where my heart felt like it was just chillin on my sleeve.  where my emotions were heightened enough that it seemed they were wearing me...rather than me wearing them.  i try to keep them under control.  perhaps they get tired of being held down.  so for some reason, this week, i've felt especially moody. at times crabby...but most times, just really emotional.  like a distant memory might dictate the smile or frown on my face.  when i close my eyes, (even now) it's like a gate that opens and allows a rush of emotion flush to my face.  flush...yes because i feel my face become a shade darker.  a degree warmer.  it leaves me speechless at times.  like, sometimes i think, "Gosh, I could be an amazing songwriter if it not for this darned writer's block." 

it's like i'm full of this stuff, this emotional creativity. this brain that is chock full of stuff.  but when i put pen to paper...or thumbs to iPod, or fingers to keys...it's all whisked away, like an eddy of leaves carried away in a brisk Fall breeze.  there. then gone.  it's like this...i'm on the brink of really discovering something about myself, maybe something that's crazy insane obvious to those around me...but has been buried by my own insecurities, my self-imposed limitations.  and this self discovery pounds on the brick wall of my heart.  the brick wall that stands erect smack dab in the middle of the path from my heart to my head.  from my analyzer mind to my emotion-ful heart. 

i see this field.  i'm standing in the tall grass.  hands on hips.  staring at the ground.  like i'm contemplating what to do.  not even how to get out of the field...just standing there. perplexed.  enthralled by my thoughts.  then i see this balloon.  yes, it appears from nowhere.  a bright red balloon with a long string.  i drop my hands from my hips.  i watch it float over me and i think..."I wonder which little kid lost their balloon...?"

Then i realize i'm the kid that lost it.  Inside of the balloon are all the things that i've told myself i could never do.  written on little slips of paper in my own handwriting.  i think about going after it.  but then i turn around and leave.  why...why do i do that?  you're thinking..."This is in your own head, and you don't even choose to go after the balloon full of dreams??!?!" 

Yea. you're right.  And the weird thing is that, even as i think about how crazy it is to NOT go after them...i can only ever see myself walking away from the dreamer balloon.