Journal 04

Okay, I have to write something, if not my head is going to explode. I’ve been staring at the screen for hours now while pensive thoughts have been ballooning my brain. So, I must deflate my mind by writing. I know my words are not strongest at day, but I must write something, anything.

Let me try my hands at a poem, here goes…

Silence! You bickering voices
that tend to rampage my mind
Shh now, you vile thingy demons
I shall hear no more of your spatter
Shush! Before I destroy you all
thus destroying myself likewise
Seriously, I need you to rest now
Let my existence know some peace
Can’t you just be quiet for once?

So what am I thinking of? Boring stuff for now. I don’t want to go deep with readers right now. Deep is for night. Right now, I want to talk light. But the problem is I’m always deep [laughing out loud]. Spoilt minds! [Shaking my head at you all].

It seems my thing these past hours has been journals. I’ve written up to five journal entries now. Yea, it all feels personal, you know. I feel freer while filling my journal. Stories are onerous; you have to condition your mind to a particular theme, it’s mostly force. I have a few book ideas that I haven’t expanded in a while. My addiction to thinking has left me with little to no time for book stories. I don’t know the future of those ideas, but they are up there. Maybe when my hand is very strong I’d give them a big try, maybe.

I worry too much about the future, that’s me for you — Mr. Worry. I’d be 26 come September, but I worry like an old man. The future… the future… the future… that’s me for you. The future: such a bewildering term. The thing is there are infinite possibilities of futures, but the one that bugs us the most is the one that interlaces with our dreams and wishes. I wish to be an author, but I dream much more. All I need do is tap deep into the craziness that is my mind, and bring out the genius therein.

I think I’d take a nap soon. There’s light which means the fan’s working. I don’t feel like writing much. This is what I hate about the day, it unravels the madness of the mind in non-constructive ways. I shall sleep and let sleeping dog lie. Maybe when I wake up I’d be more poised to write volumes. Plus I didn’t sleep enough in the night; 4 hours +, I don’t call that sleep. My mind is most active at day, so I usually need 6 to 7 hours of sleep for full functionality.

So, guys, I might rest, and I mightn’t. It depends.


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