To think is to delve into the thoughts in which you wish to be locked away, not knowing what you will bring up, much less the intensity. It just happens, quicker than the speed of light thoughts dance through the seemingly endless hallways of your mind, only to be brought up in a flash. These flashes they excite the senses further delving into them only excites them more. They can be a doorway to your inner most secrets, fantasies or even nightmares. Thinking can awaken things you've never known about yourself, only to pass as soon as it came. It is our mind that ensnares us in these horrid feelings, to sink deeper into this hole we have built for ourselves. I am a perfect example of thinking gone wrong. When I am silent, I am thinking, expressionless and hollow. The impression that these flashes leave on my mind cause me to dwell upon them for hours, even days to come. I am a lonely, bitter creature captive in my own mind. Clouded flashes of happiness come with no frequency as opposed to those of a more morbid nature.
Have you ever sat back and thought of all the ways in which you could die? Have you ever put any of them to paper to see if they would actually work? I cannot say that I haven't done these things, but needless to say none of them were sound enough to execute. Thinking can either be the beautiful thread that holds everything in place, or the downfall of your fragmented sanity. I am being eaten from the inside out due to this normal human process.
I lack the strength and self control to stop myself from these horrible flashes that fire constantly in my brain. They say I harbor a lot of strength, but when you use so much in such a small amount of time, it takes so long just to replenish it. I am hollow, picked clean from the inside and I have myself to blame. Little do those around me know that I am just a marionette being pulled by the strings of my unapparent insanity. I am a puppet, to be pulled around at will yet I cry without being told. Thinking once gave me the strength and hope that there is some higher power out there in which to help me along this weather beaten path; but now it just fuels the macabre thought processes that constantly lick at me like a flame.
In conclusion, I hate thinking.
With a passion.
But who am I to have an intelligent thought?
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Stupid-no-Jutsu : The art of being stupid.
Finally released in a totally unabridged format.
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