Why

Why is it easier to stare at a blank wall for hours with nothing on my mind than to face my own thoughts? To deal with my internal monologue, the very thing that dictates my actions day in and day out. The thing that talks to me like the angel and devil that rest on my shoulders. The thing that sways my feelings one way or another. The thing I have complete control over yet can’t control at all. This is not a question for anyone, except myself of course. More of a statement than a question, something I tell my myself every day and never seem to get a response from the thing that talks at all times but that.