(I wrote this last Spring, recently rediscovered it in an old journal. I don’t even remember writing it.)

Sometimes, it is like my thoughts are billiard balls. All spread out on a table. They rattle against each other and knock off the walls. I never know where they are going, or which one I should follow. Every time I turn my head, I can feel them rattling, clanking, colliding. Sometimes, it seems like one is going somewhere, on a journey, able to escape the chaotic cacophony.

I think the cacophony may be the source of their memories. And energy. (Are memories energy?) For when a thought escapes and begins down a path, I feel it fading nearly immediately. Sometimes I let it go. It runs itself dry, and vanishes, leaving only a misty spray in its place. A vapor.

More often I cannot stand the thought of losing it. I gently push it back into the cacophony. It seems to be restored temporarily.

Sometimes, I wonder, if I shake my head hard enough, I can get a thought energetic enough to travel forever. Or even just a bit longer than the rest. But no matter how hard I shake, they do what they want.

Sometimes there is one that I wish I could free. One that I would give anything to see go on its path. But even this wishing saps it of energy. It fades far too fast for me to do anything.

I wonder, sometimes, what would happen if they stopped moving. Can they stop? Is it their motion that gives them substance?

It seems like utter chaos in there; usually I discern no pattern. It seems to be a rock tumbler. But without the tumble. They move their own ways.

Yet somehow, ten years later, as I try and trace back the way I came to be where I am, I put an order to the chaos. Does it even make any sense? Is it my imagination putting the randomness to a pattern?

Though it doesn’t always feel random. Sometimes there are lines instead of balls. The lines are easier to follow. I feel them everywhere I go, everything that happens let them shift into another way. Some times they bend. They rarely cross in my view. Perhaps they are ashamed, embarrassed to have approached another, so stay away from my sight. I can rarely discern anything from their patterns.

But sometimes, they scream within my mind. Their force shakes me, and I can see nothing else within.

Have you ever woken up screaming in your sleep? It is a shattering feeling. You are distraught, panicked, terrified, horrified, but have no idea why.

When I was little, I believed that if I screamed loud enough, I could stop the world. Literally. Everything would just freeze. All the noise, all the chaos, all the motion. I imagined this happening, yet I could never see myself in these day dreams. Like the effort it took to stop the world would somehow drain me of my existence. I never thought about this when I was young. I do now.

I never tried it. It was just my hidden card, my last resort, my secret weapon. The thought of using it was both comforting and frightening. Comforting, as I knew it was there if I needed it, and nothing in the world could stop me from using it. Frightening, as I feared if I ever used it, I would not be able to start the world back up again. Or what would become of me.

Perhaps I’d have found myself waking up, screaming, one level higher, shaking with fear and bewildered as to what it was that scared me so. Perhaps not.

I once had a dream about a mirror. I looked into it, and I saw someone who was not me. She looked like me, in a way, but I knew far too clearly she wasn’t me. I had a feeling that she had made everything possible here. She looked so happy and certain. She told me her name, but when I awoke, it was gone. I felt a great sense of peace.

The balls roll on, echoing within my hollow mind. Will they ever coalesce into clarity? Or have they done so already but did I forget it so that the next time they formed, it would be just as sweet, just as miraculous. An island in the ocean of my mind.

Sometimes, it scares me the places my thoughts wander off to.

Sometimes, I wonder if there is anyone left who thinks about these things as much as I do. Sometimes I wonder if I am completely out of my mind. Sometimes, I wonder if that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.