How often do words dry out? How often is there nothing to say, but everything to say? How often does emotion overpower logic? It is happening to me for several days. I'm thinking through the words of emotion, and reason and logic has died out for it doesn't remember. Only my heart does. It isn't as small as people think it is. It holds so much, only waiting to be unlocked to the most trusted of souls.
This specific work doesn't have much sense. It can't. It mustn't. For whatever I am writing about mustn't end. It must remain breathing. It mustn't die out. Yet I still count the days when it will stop. But sometimes it grows powerful - almost overwhelming. That is when I remember that only destiny can allow it to breathe, to live. And I can only wait, frozen in time, sitting in a corner with a book to read, counting, memorizing, learning - yes, mostly learning. And I do feel like I am frozen, stashed somewhere on an old shelf of memories. Sometimes. Not always. I never wanted to be a memory. I'd rather be nothing, really. I'd rather be everything. Sometimes we can't get what we desire though. Sometimes we have to be memories. A memory. A tasteless lesson for the future. Hah.
My mind tells me many things. It reminds me of yesterdays of sun and cold, of new numbers and test results, of chocolate cakes and school visits. Oh yes. I remember it all.
But what use is that.
Waiting for an answer of the future - a cry, a statement, a whisper - is indeed exhausting. Then I don't think. I do. Then I don't contemplate. I'm not an eternal philosopher. I turn off.
Sort of like now.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts.
Short StoryThoughts of everyday, perhaps to spark your curiosity, or perhaps to lead you to another story.
