What’s on my mind?! Too much! Head can’t hold it all. Like a tidal wave life overwhelms, with destructive flooding force. Leaves a hurricane of paper piles in its wake. There is no shelter from this disaster. No rest, no sleep. No direction. No plan.
Is this how dying starts?
Writing helps to get it out. Of my head anyway. If I could get some of it out of my head, my lungs could breath easier, my heart could beat more steadily.
Wish I could just go fishing.