I don’t know half of the stuff that’s going on in my mind.
Sometimes I find it a thing of beauty, sometimes it’s gory.
Anything on my mind is a way to dissociate from real life.
Like I’m having a bad life.
Or I’m just too much of a day-dreamer?
Trail of thoughts, unstoppable, ever expanding like the universe.
I believe we all have lived in our own universe for a time.
Mine keeps on accommodating, instead of disowning me.
It is everything it is.
Just that I have many versions of it to fall into.