The thoughts that run through my brain at this hour are unintelligible. I know they’re there and could be something, but instead they end up as a bunch of nothings that I know could have been somethings at one point or another. At least they do not begin that way.
No, they begin as tightly wound strands of twine coming together into a rough and prickly rope. I can see them firmly spinning, winding, and grafting together into one large and sturdy cable. Suddenly, without any sort of notice, I lose sight of the rope and cannot keep track of the twine. These in turn, lose their tautness and begin to fray at every point until they are a pile of roughage on the floor.
These are my thoughts. A pile of roughage on the floor of my mind. I am too tired to hold them together and they easily slip away. The slightest disturbance sends them flying through the air, scattering them without any chance of gathering all again.
They aren’t lost forever. They are in there, in the room called my mind, just not all in one place. Some are hidden under furniture, others fallen in the cracks, some are caught up in a corner. They aren’t going to be that very same cable again. No, some new particles from other thoughts will be swept up and some old left behind in the cracks. Eventually, they’ll make new twine and a new rope. Hopefully it doesn’t form at 2 AM again, because I might want to use that rope of thoughts.
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