They say we are all shaped by our thoughts. And to be honest, I hope that to be only to an extent. Because that would mean I’m all over the place.
Our thoughts can be so deceiving, yet they can also be the truth. The truth in ourselves. Our secrets. Our questions, our wonders.
I find it odd I can leave it out to strangers but I slam the doors to the ones I trust and love.
But i have trouble reaching out, so I’m locked up in my thoughts. Things left unspoken. Ignored.
Sometimes I get filled with these inner emotions of the world around me that I analyze that it overwhelms me but I can’t find the words to explain this chaos. But I want to.
Like a bottle full of air locked tight with a cap, just waiting for the cap to loosen to explode. But what would be the reason for just plain air to explode? And what would be the point of opening an empty bottle?
I feel like I’m the only one who thinks so deeply. So complex. Yet, I know that is unlikely. I think of things that normal people avoid. Overthinking, I suppose. And I can’t help it.
Sometimes writing doesn’t even help explain this feeling.
Sometimes I feel like an outer being away from the rest of the world. Distant. I feel so different, but I know I’m not so much different.
Almost like I’m being dragged back and forth from two different types of worlds all in itself.
Am I crazy?