Or my Body wants to escape the relentless racing of my Mind.
Either way, something's got to give.
This constant fighting wears me out. I can't make either of them happy, because, they're both me.
But. Whatever. Here I am, at 3:10 in the morning. Not complaining... just... here.
Mind. You're racing. I can't stop the constant stream of thoughts you broadcast into my temporal lobe. Yes. I can actually hear you, thoughts, erupt in sound.
I think about one thing, and one thing only. Well. Two things. But they are both in the family.
I cannot terminate these thoughts/emotions/blurbs of memory.
Hard to explain- but they're past, present, and future themoblubomems. They're... here.
She is... here. She has left this world, but I know she is here. In a different world. In a better venue.
But. Your wake has shaken the ground of one. Therefore me. Therefore all.
But. The winds of havoc you brought have now tested the rock they chose for their standing place.
For that, I am sure, One is in gratitude.
But. You are missed. You were, nay, are loved. You.
A funny thing.
Blind, illogical, and diligent, it seems to never cease, but grow like fire, never wavering as it passes to the next bearer.
And now, we are all... here... in memory, in ideas, in standing, in progression.
Thanks. That was my themoblubomem for the night. Expect another soon.