The very thought of a thought kind of puts me off a little.
I don't usually give this much consideration, but i guess a thought is a pretty big thing. The action of your hands on a gun can kill a person...yet it's the thought that pulls the trigger. So yeah, huge deal. It's pretty much why we do what we do.
Yet it is so strange in some ways, so delicate, almost whimsical. A thought could exist in my mind... maybe a thousand of them on some nights, and then the next day they just feel so silly and i don't think about them anymore. I forget those thoughts. Like they never did exist.
And that's pretty awful.
Because some of those thoughts used to define my world. And there are some things i really don't want to forget, because they made up such beautiful memories. I want to grasp on them so tightly, to hold on all the reasons i smiled, to remember that i could be happy. But there they are, gradually slipping away from me, and i don't know if i will ever possess them again.
Then there are the other thoughts, the dark ominous ones, ones that remind me of my horrible past and things i never wish to see ever again. But they stay there stubbornly, refusing to budge, occasionally consuming my mind entirely.
These memories, they almost have a mind of their own. I don't get to choose. That's a rather scary thing to conceive. But i guess that's all it is and can ever be...a thought.