A playground of thoughts

Today, my mind is a playground of thoughts. If one thought exhausts another, maybe they would cease to exist— but today, they multiply. Today, my thoughts have become a burden. In the chaos of my mind, I search for new literature, new words to anchor my restless soul. I am a writer. I don’t need food to nourish me, nor shelter to shield me, nor breath to survive. All I need is a copy that never tires, and a pen that dances on the page. I am a writer. I draw shapes from words, pour ink like a river that never runs dry. I write with curled fingers and a wet pen, as if the very act of creation is my lifeblood. When life feels colorless, I splash color onto the canvas of each moment. I walk with the weight of my thoughts, each step an echo of the writer’s burden. Today, my thoughts weigh heavy. But in their pressure, I continue to search for new literature, for a voice that might quiet the storm.