Rhetorical

Often I wonder; can't I simply be content?

Why such a restless spirit? Why such a impatient soul? Such a roaming heart? Why this chase for fun and adventure but this blindness towards happiness?

There's this inability to find peace in everyday-life. It's so difficult to be to terms with the uneventful. Life has to be complicated in a rainbow cascade of events, free from black or white elements. Free from routine and the expected. Too long without anything unexpected and the mind claws its impatiens in the skin, like the deepest itch, and the spirit squirms somewhere in-between the chest and abdomen. Uncomfortably strong enough to be a taste on the tongue that only night outs, forgotten keys, missed last buses home, loud music and truth or dare can wash away.

All the mysteries of the world lies awaiting behind irises filled with the glint a crooked smile will render them. Withing eyes so enigmatic. Those harboring a soul just out of grasp and ever just beyond reach the more you try to grasp it.

Intriguing.

Those kind of eyes are the ones that will meet you when you gaze into mine. The eyes of a being never quite content, a soul that is searching, just briefly happening to pass trough your life. And thus ever so much more interesting.

The lack of ability to let this heart and mind settle down in happiness is the need to be more than a fixture. A constant.

Or a fear of the same.

A fear of being content when there is so much more to be discovered. A fear of the unmoving when there is so much more to explore. To be content and fulfilled is to reach a final destination from where no more journeys will be embarked upon. A peace of mind and happiness. Something that should not be feared but wished for.

Yet still I want the road there to be long and winding.