Forests

“Just tolerate my little fists tugging on your forest chest” - Fiona Apple. It’s the first thing I thought of because of her music. Fiona is so intensely interesting and verbose and I just cannot help but want to be like her. The ability to speak your mind with such clarity and demand is amazing to me. She can be so much more articulate about how I feel than I think I’ll ever be. Words amaze me in that way, I can’t stop thinking but the thoughts just keep coming coming coming with no resolution, no end point, no articulation in sight. Rather they bottle up, swarming, spilling over, exploding, reverberating, ricocheting and overpowering me. But there isn’t an emotional response, it’s just thought for the sake of thought thought for the sake of being being for the sake of. I don’t even understand where I’m going with this, but I suppose I’d best keep writing anyhow, for the duration of the five minutes. It’s interesting to me how long five minutes can seem when you’re doing something, anything, but you’re focused on the time passing by. I don’t dislike this though, not at all. Maybe I should start putting a stream of consciousness verbosity into normal everyday writing. Not that I normally, everyday write and not that any of this makes any sense but rather it helps me to clear my mind, clear my head, clear my damn thoughts. They just won’t stop, they’re so ceaseless. Stephen Hawking I believe said that those who are quiet have the loudest minds or something like that, and I believe that’s the truth. I’m not talkative but my mind just races endlessly from sun up till sun down and even summore then. Dreams come and go and I always seem to remember a fragment, a piece of something or someone within them. I remember waking up breathless one night from a dream, all it took was seeing a face and then BAM I was awake, sweating cold, trying to catch my breath. I also have a lot of dreams where I’m falling and when I fall I wake up and my arm jerks and I am horrified for that brief moment but then it’s quite alright because I realize, I’m still in my bed, I’m not falling. I can’t help but wonder just how many gramatical errors I’m making here (and spelling errors too, if any) but I guess that’s not the point of this exercise is it? The point of the exercise is to get talking and not stopping and that can be such a trip for me, it’s either incredibly difficult to articulate what I mean to say or it comes effortlessly, flowing from my mind and my mouth and my fingers with ease and alacrity. It’d be nice if thoughts would just end the moment you let it go, just disperse into a puff of nothingness the moment a word was spoken but the word is just the spoken thought and while it is forgotten, the mind just keeps going until we shrivel up and die.

Thoughts

Well that was exceptionally pleasant and quite the end to a thrilling narrative, but really I’m just saying that because it wasn’t pleasant at all. Rather it was disturbing and morose but I’m alright with that because sometimes that’s just how the brain works. All I can think about are my thoughts which provides more thinking which fuels the thoughts and the thoughts explode in a torrent of cognition and it is all so exciting but so overwhelming and it effects everything. I’m constantly wondering why did I say that? What could the effects of me saying that be? How did they react? Who likes me? Do I like me? Do they like me? and the thoughts just keep pouring but also about less trivial things, depending on your point of view. Late at night I stay awake doing mathematic equations in my head, nothing particularly difficult or genius just simple mathematical algorithms to meet solutions for mathematical quandries but that’s all any math is for isn’t it? An algorithm is such a funny word, before psychology of all things I had no idea what it meant. But I like it, it sounds interesting, it’s spelled interesting, and it always provides a solution. All I want are solutions anyway, all anyone wants are solutions don’t they? I’d say so, I just want a solution for my mind. Some way to get everything out and just sit still and think thoughtlessly, to exist and be nothing, just sit and stare. It sounds so pleasant to be a vegetable sometimes, all dark and green and leafy and nutritious but unloved. What the hell does that even mean? Nutritious but unloved? It is the nature of vegetables but not the nature of people, unless you get down to the chemical level, but I honestly don’t know that people are particularly nutritious for people - there’s a reason we don’t have canines built for rending live flesh after all. I think I’m going over my five minutes here, but I think I want to. Look at that, thinking thinking thinking. It’s funny how that seems to work, I can’t stop without thinking because my thoughts just provide another thought about thinking and what why am I going off on this tangent again? Do I wanna do right of course but do I really wanna feel I’m forced to answer you? Hell no. Those are some more Fiona Apple lyrics (i’m her biggest fan, let’s be honest here). I want him to go with me but I doubt he will because why would he because why would anyone. Honestly this is getting a bit too depressive but I need to let it out some how. I need to be able to say something and stop feeling it and stop thinking it, but that’s not how it works which I said earlier. These words are just a record, just a memory of the thought, and then the thought resurfaces and is brought anew once again. But really all I keep thinking about is how other people perceive me which is so funny because it’s an existential crisis that can’t be solved. I will never be another person (will I?) so how will I ever know how I view myself from the outside when it is always from the inside looking out? This is honestly just rambling but there you go.