There are a lot of things I don't understand. Seemingly useless math and science problems, why people must be so illogical and of course myself. I'd like to think I am an open book to myself, but in fact it's the exact opposite. I continue to amaze and confuse me all the time. I can't even see why I think like I think, let alone why I feel or don't. Anything outside of reason and logical thinking confuses me and gets me puzzled, including my own actions. It's easy to see when I talk myself through it, when I analyse every breath of my mind and every pinch of my body but what's the fun in that?
Can't I just let go, be done with it and move on? Probably not, as I detest matters to be left unexplained. It's as annoying as can be but serves the purpose of my state of mind. Without the brain, no heart. Without the heart, only brain. I wish my mind had a switch just like my heart has. Pull out the plugs, cut off the power and be it gone. Nothing but silence loud enough to fill the emptiness inside. Nothing but sweet silence, a blank paper left to be written on by the heart. I long for that silence, the day my mind will shut up and only listen for once in its lifetime.
It's gonna be a long life if I have to wait for that to happen I guess. Maybe the time's there when I finally understand what's going on, when I stop to be my own enigma. Mysterious; all right, but unobtainable by my own mind? No please. Of course when the moment comes that my mind will shut up, I won't be able to see anything but the gobbledygook my heart tries to explain. Without the dreaded analyses I remain clueless, which also isn't what I need. I am my own paradox, my own little enigmatic mystery. Woopti-freaking-doo.