My brain is running me ragged. It doesn’t stop churning. On and on it goes. On and on. It’s so monotonous. And it’s exhausting. And it doesn’t seem to care that it’s exhausting me.

One would think my brain would have the sense to think of someone else besides itself. One would think. But that kind of thought never enters this brain’s thinking. Not even for a splinter of a second.

And it keeps dragging me along. It won’t let go. No matter how hard I try to set myself loose, it simply won’t let me. It’s so unfair.

So then what is this brain thinking about? All of those what/if/then/that kinds of thoughts. What/if/then/that and then if/that/what/then/if. The content is irrelevant. The point of it is to exhaust me. And it is succeeding. I wonder if it feels a sense of pride in that kind of success.

But my brain does not feel success or failure or much of anything else. My brain does not believe that there’s no success like failure … or that failure’s no success at all. My brain does not know what to believe. My brain is not in the business of believing. Believing in something. In anything.

But it grinds away. Unremittingly. And I am tethered to it. It’s an unfortunate situation.

But I like to think there is hope. A flicker of hope. I hope for the day where one day my brain looks up and sees the sky. And looks around and sees the sky all around it. And begins to notice there is earth below. And upon there that earth there is me. And maybe at that moment, my brain will experience a realization of some sort. A realization about something and someone outside of it.

And perhaps then it will feel some sense of responsibility to others besides itself. Even if they are intangible. I wait for that moment to occur.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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