It's way past the striking of the witching hour. Surroundings are dead silent yet my playlist is what i only hear. The thought traffic keeps me awake and I have no idea how to subdue them.
Tomorrow should worry about itself no more than tonight should concern itself in coming to an end. However, the restless mind is capable of arriving at a thousand conclusions and usually only one among a thousand is a positive train of thought. All the rest proclaim dread, doubt, fear, even death.
Truly this proves how ill a human mind bends to the notion of tormenting its own being (my mind, my being). The pending question "Who am I in the midst of this traffic thought?".
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