It is tiring — this state of mind when it is full, even overflowing of thoughts mixed like a mixed-up tape destroyed by the thinker itself, what to do when nothing seems to be going right for it is too right yet too wrong, I pick up a topic and I recall I was reading Aleph by Paulo Coelho and I am on page one hundred and forty seven. My mind drifts to another subject and I remember that I left my room too messy for the rats to play around. Going back to the present exigency, I sit in front of my hubby’s personal computer here at his apartment , I stop to realize my hair is grubby and laugh that it is similar with my mind at the moment. My mind seems destructed by the voice of my son playing with his dad. Then another drift and I think life is never fair to those who does not know the rules and how to play the game. Yes we are all but merely actors and actresses and life is a stage according to Shakespeare but this particular stage I am in right now is undefined for I am experiencing a kind far from ordinary. To my surprise I find myself drunk even when I haven’t drank at all. Feelings of such makes me think I am myself yet I am not myself. And my readers surely but maybe would find this post complicating. Hahaha. Someone told me before that a good writer starts from scratches meaning writing without second thoughts, just writing forwardly as topics go muddled up in your head until you reach that tipping point where you are certain of your subject target.