There is this profound silence in my head and all around me when I think. Which is always. Lost in thoughts is a phrase you can associate me with. I think so much that I end up being unrelated to the world I am supposed to be in. I hear fuzzy noises of people speaking, images blur before my eyes and everything in motion is suspended. I have favourite places to think. Leading the list is my white-tiled bathroom. Most jobless Saturday afternoons were spent there, thinking. And I end up forgetting what I was thinking about. Almost always.
I think faster than I write. It's extremely hazardous. Precious quotes and topics have been lost this way. Before I can pen down a few sentences, my mind is racing with the next set. My memory fails me. I struggle hard to remember them, but in vain.
Even when I read a book, watch a movie, listen to music, write, cook, eat, or do everything at the same time; I'm thinking. Random thoughts, vague ones. Unrelated stuff.
Thoughts become imagination sometimes. Okay, most of the times. More often than not I find myself day-dreaming. I wish I could be paid to do that. No, really! I have built stories in my head. Stories that have a beginning but no ending. Ones that start off pensively, that end up nowhere. Like this post.
