Grasping at Words

There's a thirst. A feeling of something missing. But the scent is so subtle that you cannot really pinpoint why and where in your body it exists. Instead, you frown a little because there's a piece missing like seeing an unfinished puzzle.

Perhaps it is the feeling of not having done something fulfilling. The fear of being overpowered by indecision and insecurities to even start on what you feel should be natural. Thoughts in your head are tangled like an impossible mess, daunting for you to even approach. How can you ever manage to make sense of what you want to say? What you want to express?

Distractions are drowning clarity like never before. The thought of you not having anything to say is not new. But now, it's also mixed with the paralysing doubt of your own perspectives. Would it even make sense? Maybe it's laughable. It's already been done thousands times before. What makes what I say so special?

That's how it goes. Before it even starts, your mind wins.

Maybe, silencing is easier and less risky. Maybe, you don't need to do it. There are just too many other things in life to focus on, more practical things. You need to be pragmatic about what you spend your energy on, and entertaining such curiosities is just not that worthwhile. Maybe.

My mind wins, almost every time. But today, it didn't. Today I tell myself, maybe it will get easier. Maybe.