When the Heart makes sense and the Mind does not...

I lay my head on my pillow and breathe.

I hear my insides rising and falling, and my heart beat gets louder, and louder, and I start to distinguish the words... "Believe in me. Believe in me. Believe in me." Over and over and over, a perfect way to lull someone to sleep. Except the gears in my mind are clanking and turning and twisting and it's loud and distracting and tiring.

1+1=2
5+2x=15 makes x=5
heart+faith=hurt

and the lull of my heart is drowned and my head hurts and it all equals fear and disappointment and sadness and insomnia.

I have faith in you Heart. I do. Give me some strength to ward off the demons of my consciousness. Give me a sign, a faint promise.

Then again, that's my mind talking. The need of proof. Force of habit I suppose, or a defense mechanism against hurt that it has calculated to come about faith in my heart. Am I that damaged? Have I been metaphorically beaten within an inch of my ability to give myself this gift? To have faith in faith?

I would like to be free. And sometimes I am, I am free of my mind, happy with my heart, not in a world of expectations or results. They come later, and the wait could drive me insane. No, I find myself happy in the existence of my heart and its words in the present.

I try to strike the balance, it's not an easy one, and it is tiresome.

I should stop asking for anything. Only then will I get something.