A drop of water
When it is in the ocean, it just moves around, with all the other millions of drops of water. Wait, billions? Trillions? Googols? (that's 1 followed by a hundred zeros)
Does a drop of water ever disappear? Does its existence ever cease? However insignificant, however small, it still exists, in some form or another.
A whirlpool of thoughts.
Conflicting emotion. Wild, crazy thoughts. Think of the swirling sea, the ocean that crashes against the shore again, and again. There is no order. There is no logic. it just comes in again, and again.
At a cross junction, how do you decide which way to go? What leads your mind to go straight, turn left, or turn right? What makes it better? Do you look at which road has an end in sight? or do you choose the long winding one that may have a better destination. Or is the straight path always the best?
What is the worst form of torture in the world?
I don't know what you thought of, but to me, it would be solitary confinement.
Imagine you are kept in a small room, just big enough for you to sit, lie. The walls are smooth and blank. The door is locked shut. There is barely any light in the room, just the tiniest of slits at the bottom of the door that allows a hint of light in the room.
You are kept in there until you die.
You think it's easy? The hardest part would be to occupy your mind. The first few days may be bearable with yourself running some recent memories, some happy memories through your head. Remember, you have nothing to look forward to, so there's nothing to dream about.
Next few days you are going to be looking around the room for something to entertain yourself with. Maybe the cracks on the wall form a shape. Maybe.
As you are kept in there even more, you have studied everything you can in the room. You are dying of SHEER BOREDOM. you have thought about your lover, your family, your friends countless number of times. You start to bang on the door to ask to be let out , just for a while.
But noone ever comes.
You are left in there for life. your only form of entertainment is your imagination. Which is bound to run out, in a small , dark room.
I don't know if this scares you, but i'm scared to death of such a form of torture.
Is it that hard to find someone who cares.
Someone who will be there, always.
Why are complications there in life? To make things interesting? Too good a life is dull?
I'm tired of reasoning. Of thinking.
I'm tiring of writing this incoherent abstract post.
