My brain is moving too quickly for my own good.
When I was little, I used to write constantly. I flip back through some of it and laugh because my sentences were disjointed. Incomplete. My brain moved too quickly through what I wanted to say and my hands couldn't keep up with a pen.
As I grew older my brain slowed down, relaxed. Settled into itself and I could think clearly. I spent more time thinking about what I wanted to say. I grasped for the right words and often came up short.
Now my brain is moving quickly again. I think it's trying to keep up with my son, whose brain is firing on all cylinders. If you're very still and watch him very closely, I believe you can see new brain cells forming in front of your eyes. I have ideas bouncing around my head, writing that I haven't thought of in years nagging to get out.
But everytime I sit to write, I don't know what to say. I think of this blog and put off writing on it, not because I'm devoid of conversation, but because I'm not sure what face I want to show the world anymore. I'd just like to hide in myself for the time being, and watch my son grow.
