I have the most consumed soul I have ever seen. I don't stop. I just don't. Thinking is a process within me that goes as far as my sleep, wakefulness, and daydreaming. It doesn't stop. In my dreams and realities. In the surreal world I created inside me, it's there, too. I can't hide; there are no safe places. The only safe places from my thoughts are thoughts of, maybe, someone else. Or even myself, the least consuming thought. It may be my hiding place, but it is still a thought.
My body is scarred; no one sees it, but it is full of scars from my past. Thoughts I have let cross my mind and never died. In that undying state I found them marking scars all over me. Draining me. Consuming me. Becoming me.
I also happen to have the most consumed heart I have ever seen. My heart is full of undying love(s) which refuses to let me go, rather than my letting it go. It's like I have no control whatsoever over my own body, my soul, my being.
What am I if I can't speak to myself, have conversations with it and fight with it all the time? What am I if I'm only the battlefield for my mind, soul, and heart to fight over the shitty trivialities of life? What am I? Nothingness? But nothingness is a word, and in being a word it, by its own, is a thing.
Please help me. My faith is only in you and to you.
Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.
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