And so the monologue was once again forcing its way out. It pressed on the inside of her skull, waiting for the brain to assign words for each feeling. Each moment. If one could view the sea of thoughts floating in a foamy aqua mass, surely the ocean would be in an uproar. Her thoughts were as plentiful as plankton in the stomach of a blue whale; taking up space while waiting to be used for nourishment. Meanwhile, the pressure increased.
She wished for a giant container with a lid to cram all the unnecessary trains of thought into, as if picking up discarded toys when a toddler has left the room. She wished for quiet, the same way a mother of two-year-old twins longs for their next naptime. She wished the music would drown out everything else. But instead, it caused more thought. Analyze: to examine methodically by separating into parts and studying their interrelations. Lyrics which may have meant very little to the author of them were now being picked apart as she searched for a deeper meaning; searched for a way to apply them to her situation. To her life.
Her thoughts were often drawn to people, two in particular. Either set off a chain of thoughts, each thought easier than the next to initiate, but each more perplexing. One chain of the past she abhorred, the other she allowed, though its implausible nature managed to annoy her if dwelled on too long. She often told herself how stupid and foolish it was to think about such things, but that never seemed to slow the reoccurrences. True, her spirits had improved slightly in regards to the first string of thought; her inner monologue stopped cursing quite as much as it first did. But the second string was her Popsicle; tasty, tantalizing, yet it has the ability to melt and leave you with only a stick. Besides making birdcages, what else can that stick do?
Then it came on; a beautiful piece that allowed her mind silence until its completion. A song that made her happy on the inside, while the rest of her remained distressed.
It's over now.