The aging mind

I thought I saw the rain from the window, but it was not raining. Maybe it was my imagination. I continued scrubbing the pot, trying to get the stain off. But there was no stain at all, the pot is already sparkling clean. I rinsed off the bubbles.

I was probably too tired. I need rest, mentally.

The mind is not as carefree as 19 years ago, when I was merely a child. A sentence is a sentence, a request is a request, there was no underlying meaning to them.

Everything seems more difficult now, much more complicated. The mind likes to make them this way more and more as I aged. Something so simple and fine can be turned into a dark web full of complicated knots.

I pulled my hair into a ponytail, secured it with my cloisonne stick and took my place in front of the desktop. I felt the flood of words rushing in once more. My fingers busied themselves on the keyboard, trying to put down the thoughts on a blank template before they flee.

An instant message from Skype popped up at the corner of the screen. We started chatting. For an hour or so. About the problem that he was facing and then mine. I felt much better after, some weight was lifted off my mind.

I realised, sometimes talking is better than just writing them down. An opinion or two could change your perspectives on certain matters.

Some knots will eventually untie themselves. Freeing themselves from the strain and numbness.

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