My mind isn’t the person that my mouth describes.
One thing that has always annoyed me is that my consciousness seems to be on a whole different plane to who I am when I speak. There is so much going on, so many thoughts, this seriousness, this seemingly knowledgeable being inside that never actually appears to exist at all. Because the moment I start talking those thoughts of entirety are lost and I am all but a mere idiot. A pathetic shadow who tries to imitate the person inside who looks down on me with discontent. A disciple who has failed to preach the message that had been sent.
For my mouth acts differently, whereas in this scenario I can attempt to type out every word that flashes into my mind – I can’t when I talk. Talking just leaves room for a slurry of unintentional mess that lacks the meaning, the depth and the wisdom that seemed to be present before it had all been forcefully summarised, chopped up and spat out into a load of irrational nonsense. Even now I stare at the words that I have written, still not matching those that I have thought of earlier – but in the absence of some form writing medium all those words have slowly hidden away. Once again I look down upon what I have written, displeased with my failure to relay my own message.
Sorry for the short post.