I’ve been in a sort of rut the past couple of days, where everything feels done or said or seen, the best thing to do always seems to sleep.
I have this habit of going to bed with a head of jostling thoughts, each shoving the other and wailing as loud as they can for me to attend to them and think them through. It’s a festive madhouse in my brain when I lie down, and I like it, because somewhere between thinking them through sleep catches up with me and shuts me down. It’s the most glorious part of my day.
Unfortunately there is only so much sleep a person can manage to force themselves into during a day, and so here I am, doing the next best thing, rambling.
Have you ever tabooed so many thoughts from surfacing in your mind that sometimes you are uncertain you are left with anything at all that you are permitted (by yourself) to think about without feeling guilty/obsessive/destructive/unhealthy/life-less?
That’s somewhat close to what I’ve been feeling of late. I couldn’t help but wonder though, if it is so hard to block these thoughts maybe they aren’t meant to be blocked, or maybe I’m doing that rationalizing thing, you know, rationalizing.
So I think some more.
I write, because writing helps me find answers.
I feel the weight of the queries nestle upon my mind’s eye and my real eyelids begin to feel some of the ton as well, they droop.
This process has been on endless loop the past few days and here I am again, playing into the rhythm of this melody.
Adios, my dears.