Sometimes it gets coughed up, like a fur ball. Sometimes it gets swallowed, like unplugging the sink-hole. Sometimes it stays, like a dormant volcano. My thoughts and me, we share a love-hate relationship.
They’re difficult to control. I could be sitting there having a conversation with you and my thoughts could be drifting to a million other things. Even when I’m asleep, my thoughts haunt me, in my dreams.
See, I have this eternal internal self-dialogue. And I often wonder if you do too. This voice, that comments on anything and everything. This voice, that demands you to do things. This voice, that creates a different version of reality.
Like I said, it gets very noisy in there.