mindless death

I find it really hard to blog lately. Words do not come easily when I sit in front of the computer trying to encapsulate all these errant thoughts i have throughout the day in one single post. It's like the brain's still trying to figure out which thought makes the most sense when the nerve ending on your fingers are dying to chase the cursor on the screen to make the most out of those seemingly not so random occurences. And then it all becomes a matter of hand-brain coordination, if there is such a thing. The thought process is over before one has the time to grasp the true meaning of its intended concept.

If blogging is as a mean of capturing that quick flash of random musings, I would be living an existence solely dominated by the whirring sounds of my laptop and the light tapping of my fingers.
I would be the writer that has no place in the outside world, living only to bear my soul to Windows day in, day out.
I would be forced to stay put in my special spot in order to maintain this heartfelt connection that I have with the information super highway, ensuring no one thought is left to rot within the vestiges of my grey matter unused, unclassified, undocumented.

It will become a full time job.
Every waking moment counts.
Sleep and food are oblivious to such pursuits.

And then it happens.

Cue the drums.



I drown in my own triviality.
My mind becomes the death of me.