My head feels empty. I hate this feeling. Ideally it should be teeming with coherent thoughts and ideas but it isn’t. Although I suppose it’s a good thing. It gives way for a completely new idea to be born and thrive in it’s isolation. I suppose that’s what ideas need, solitude. They need to take the spotlight and shine in order to be heard. They’re narcissists, ideas. The brainchild is a selfish thing that wants to take up all of your time.
It’s very quiet. Not in my head, around me. I hear crickets, like I usually do at night. I’ve decided to step outside and admire the night sky. The cool night air does wonders for the mind. All l the nerves come alive at the change in temperature and you start to hear useless things in your head, like the weather forecast.
I’m sitting on the wall, it’s terrifying. I could either fall backwards and break my neck or fall forward and fall into the pool, severely injuring myself in some creative and exciting way. But I stay still and there is no vertigo. The nerves don’t react to the danger as they do to the cold. It’s because I’m stable. It’s only if I decide to make a move forward or backward that my nerves will register the danger and respond with many noises. Just like the stagnant room temperature that made my head quiet. I moved outside and the change has my head buzzing.
And bow there are ideas, words and images swimming in my head as they should. The swoosh of stories gone by is exhilarating. The splashing and crashing of voices on the shore of my mind has me feeling like I’m on the edge of the world, speaking to everyone and no one.
None of it makes sense. But it’s all there. It’s movement.
Take a walk. Go outside. Feel your brain come alive.