Thought Process Therapy

There is nothing wrong with the fact that I am thinking and I am thinking and I am not looking and I am breathing. Maybe. Not sure. I think I'm breathing but of course I could be a brain in a vat just imagining that I exists and wouldn't that be sad? Wouldn't that be sad and I know it's sad, for you, maybe, but I'm not sad. Maybe. Because I have known love so even if I am a brain in a vat then I can be content to know that I love and am loved in turn and that's more than what a lot of people can say. My fingers are flying across the keyboard, writing every stray thought without pause even this one, and this one and this one, God will anyone even read this? Probably not and if they do they'll probably laugh. Please don't laugh, person reading this, I'm baring my soul right now, kinda-sorta.

Really I'm baring my mind to you and I think that's a lot more important because if reincarnation is real then this soul of mine is probably an old one, maybe, but this brain is new and mine alone. So yeah. That's a weird thought to be honest, I don't even  why I'm doing this. I just have that warm feeling behind my eyes, in my frontal lobe, and that ancy feeling where I can't read anything because images and places and turns of phrase keep popping up in my head but they aren't coherent so I can't make them into anything. But I can't function correctly if I don't write something down, and usually just spinning a story around a word or phrase or an image works just fine like 3:15 and dogs barking and desperate trees or like the image of two crying lovers in a shower who can never get close enough.

That's how my brain works, that's the secret, and image or phrase or word and I just write and write and write and I don't think about it until later when my fingers are spent and I might have cried a little but I just build entire worlds for these characters that I write and I always always always feel so very very sad when I release them into the world because they aren't just mine anymore they're yours too, because you've read about them even if you don't like them, some part of their souls are with you and it's not just me anymore that thinks of them in the middle of the night. Maybe. That's what I kind of hope anyway because I'm selfish and I hope these things I create are loved too because I really do love them, you know? I just love them, because, actually, I don't even know why.  It's so strange because I love these people I create more then I love the people I actually know sometimes. Maybe because I know that if the one I image holding a conversation with doesn't like what I'm saying I can create someone who does. God that sounds narcissistic or maybe crazy probably both god I feel so selfish. I shouldn't like the people I make up more than the people who are actually here, but It's not that I like them more, really, but I trust them more because they can't hurt me.

And this thought process is turning so very very angsty so I'm going to think about something different like pie. Apple pie. It's good and I make it with my grandmother every autumn when the apples in my area are in season. But I don't like spending time with grandma either because all she talks about is how much of a sociopath my mother is like she's a doctor who can diagnose these things and I really don't want to hear it. At all. Ever. It's been over a year since I last talked to my mother. I don't miss her or love her or hate her and I think that might be a bad thing. Because that's not normal is it? To not miss or love or hate one's mother? I don't know. I wish I did. I really wish I did. All I know is that being with her hurt my heart a lot and I'd rather not be near her at all then feel like I mean nothing again. I feel so empty right now. Really empty. Numb, maybe? I wish I knew how love is supposed to feel, or that I could fall in love. Because it seems like everyone but me is falling in love and that just makes me feel more wrong.  And this is just turning into some teen angst prose and god I hate that. I really do. Sorry god, I keep hating in your name or whatever. And on Ash Wednesday too so it's twice as sacrilegious as usual.

If I let myself I think I'd keep typing, keep thinking, and this really is becoming a bit too much like a teen drama angst pity party so I'll cut it off here while thinking of something pleasant like kittens.