Lost in thoughts and filled with emotions, penning down a piece of my mind.
While sitting around doing not a lot, my mind likes to take boundless leaps of faith and fall into an abyss of mindful as well as mindless thoughts. Being an active over-thinker, I don’t only think about stuff which gives me anxiety. You see, the things I think about change from time to time.
They vary from me thinking and creating conspiracy stories to thinking about the origins of vampire stories. I create stories in my mind and that's how I write. I sometimes sit under a tree and think about the people who have had sit here before me. Would they have sat here of tiredness, to get some shade or just to have a quiet chat with themselves like me?
My mind takes me to a myriad of places. It places me in thousands of fabricated scenarios and
makes me wonder about things that don't seem to exist.
Unlike political alliances, thoughts need peace to be formed. Quiet and cosy spaces where the mind can go on and on without being disturbed. Silence. It's very important. Amongst all the chaos that is our lives, we do need moments (sometime hours) of just silence. What do we do in this time? During these beautiful moments of blissful silence, we close our eyes and let loose. Let the child in us go wild. I have spent hours in a closed room reading fiction and that is the part of me that I love to embrace when I’m thinking. The mind is a very beautiful place, you are the one who controls everything in it, so why ever stop?
I remember the little 7-year old me fascinated at how mobiles work, a piece of art, would sit hours in sitting in my mom’s lap telling her stories of how I thought we could call my grandmother and how aliens were looking over us. I remember how I took heavy inspiration from movies and put up a family sit down to begin my storytelling. I remember how I thought the sun and moon were big enemies and hated each other but loved Earth and therefore took turns to spend time with it.
The mind of a child is a beautiful place but why does it dull down as we grow older. I had this
thought a few days ago and it makes me very sad. But then, not to brag, but I still have the silliest of thoughts. A few days ago I was again sitting with my mom and telling her stories.
I told her about how I was wondering how the first archaeologists would have felt when they first discovered dinosaur skeletons. How accomplished they would have felt when they were digging and exploring while they stumbled upon a huge skull and they almost knew they did it but had to be so patient and careful, balancing their emotions while their historic discovery laid in front of them.
I wonder a lot. As a result of it, I go off track with my stories. Have you ever wondered how would it feel to stab someone with a knife? Would you feel their skin rip? Would you pierce through their muscles? What about their bones? Do knives shatter them? All these questions race in my head.
I’m sometimes weirded out by my own thoughts but then weird is a way of life and I have taken it upon me to embrace it.
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