It’s not quite thoughts keeping me up at night. I wish it were thoughts. Coherent, brilliant, captivating, beautiful thoughts. Alas it’s not that. No. It’s emotions. Wordless, yet stretching infinitely and smashing the character count to oblivion.
Heavy. So. Very Heavy.
Yet floating like the particles of the cosmos containing the universe in each and every atom. Simple, yet boundlessly impossible to fully comprehend. If only it were thoughts that kept me up. Thoughts can be translated to words, which can be translated to art. This? Well, it’s hard to put pen to paper.
About the Creator
NJ Reed
Therapy, work, and passion--but which is it most?
(I'm not a robot, but I'm also not Richard Brautigan)
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