Ummmm.

Something that I have put off writing about, but that I think of often. Is the nature of my thinking. I am in thought, like many, almost always. And whilst I can plod along, mulling over the people and places that make up my world. I can also allow myself to think big, to think vast, to challenge myself, to play both sides of one argument, to detach myself from the idea of being correct, as it were.

Perhaps, put simply, I wonder.

The issue is not with my thinking but instead with my ability to communicate my thoughts with others. What seems clear in my mind is soon scrambled beyond recognition at the point of sharing. And the same is true with my writing.

These thoughts, that inspire and excite me, they exist on an infinite plane, my conscience. They can evolve and interact with one another constantly, they can be manipulated and observed from any and every angle, endlessly. And then at the point of sharing they face an unavoidable hurdle whereby these many ideas, have to be delivered in a linear fashion. Only one word can be uttered at a time, one word written. But my thoughts can’t understand this, and so, like giddy children, it’s as if they make a mad dash for the exit, assuming they can each arrive, fully formed, all at once. And of course, they can’t.

I fall into an irreversible muddle. A fluster and frustration. Because what a torment it is to not be able to succinctly communicate. They are there, my thoughts, I see them, I feel them, how is it that I can’t just share them?

Perhaps this is part of the human condition, perhaps I am not alone. Nonetheless, it is tiresome and isolating.