Do you ever get exhausted by the madness that is your own mind?
Mine doesn't stop- twisting and turning, analyzing and assessing- each tiny detail of any and every emotion attemptedly interpreted and cataloged.
A blessing and a curse- for this is what I enjoy so much about humanity, heightening my own understanding to our differences, our structure, our makeup- what experiences and circumstances define us, knowingly or otherwise.
What path did you take to reach where you are today? What variables affected who you are and how you process your senses? Why are we each allowed such a uniquely natural ability to decipher this world? To me- it's an essence of life, the attempt to understand others.
I'm not asking you agree with me, nor I you, but to understand the reasoning and rationale behind the decisions we make and the actions we take, well it's important to me- how else does one set a foundation to create a valid stance and opinion about our own moral code?
I don't understand why you do what you do- so show me.
I don't understand why you say what you say- so explain it to me.
Help me pick it apart. Show me how. Allow me to see.
The problem is, even if you try to live life in this way, frustratingly running the play on repeat in mind's eye; you often remain burdened by misunderstanding.
It is this lack of conclusiveness that drives me mad- having been left in an intrusively introspective state- accosting myself of a blindness to the seemingly apparent- which instead brews a rather self-deprecating pot of internal speculation and disconnected, emotional chaos.
There is no resolution I've found, no cure to this disease that is endless thought and wonder. I suppose like anything else, it takes an active reminder of one's worth- both of others, and of self, to keep a lid on it all, simmering an anxiety of the unknown and harboring rather the genuinity of a curious nature.
Maybe everyone feels this way, maybe only women, or maybe, just maybe, it's only lucky me :)
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