11,713 The incoherent ramblings of a fool
There are a lot of things I want to say, but all of them are half-formed thoughts that lead nowhere and have almost no point. I write and I write and I write, but where does it all go? Do I write just to get it out of my head? Perhaps. Writing has always helped to organise my thoughts, but these days they are bouncing around all over the place and no matter how hard I try, they will not take a rest and sit down.
Maybe I’m simply drinking too much coffee these days.
I want to write about so many different things swirling around me: marriage and relationships, sentimental drivel, the point of it all. And yet, I start and stop and start and stop. The words flow, but they don’t seem to make any sense, even to me. I’m spewing and spewing and none of it adds up. I can’t build anything. If I can’t line up the blocks, then who can?
Lately, I find myself longing for a simpler mind (not too simple, but at least having coherent ideas and basic reasoning skills). I am getting wrapped up in ideas and rants that are completely nonconstructive; the spiral is tiring sometimes, and it’s an effort to wrench myself away from it, but I guess that is why writing is so good for me. Getting it at least out of my system helps a lot.
My paper diary probably reads like it belongs to someone holed up in a mental institution.
No matter, whether this is coherent or not, I guess in the long run it doesn’t quite matter. Write and write and maybe you’ll learn something about the world, about yourself. Or maybe not. Who cares.