Sometimes my mind is an ocean. And my thoughts ; they drown me.
I’ve always wanted to be like it,like water which slips right through your hand but is strong enough to hold a ship.
My name means eternal, although life being ephemeral.
Sometimes my mind is a garden.
And my thoughts? My thoughts are seeds.
They either grow flowers or weeds.
Sometimes my mind is a galaxy
with my thoughts floating randomly like stars.
-trying to orbit in exact circles.
Forming as they float.
Sometimes my mind is the blue sky and my thoughts like the clouds ; disintegrated and distorted.
Sometimes my mind is like a changing season and my thoughts unnoticed and free.
Sometimes my mind is an empty blank canvas and my thoughts are colours ; waiting to be smeared across the white canvas and create something beautiful, something purposeful.
But to describe yourself and your thoughts with a bunch of metaphors is too harsh upon the person you want to be,the thing you want to se, the person you are already but fail to see; and you aren’t fathomable by any amount of words written inside of books because, no books can ever encase the stories that you’re born to live.
And yet you read and write and try to contain yourself into the amount of ink held in the barrel of your pen; trying to write a something that would impress and do justice to your mind and the thoughts that consume, yourself.