My Mind is a City

That’s the thing about this city, it’s not really a city at all. I mean if you wanted it to be, sure, we’ll go with that analogy. For literature’s sake or psychology’s what have you. If me talking about my mind as though it were a city entices you, so be it. I can’t promise that I’ll keep your attention, god no. I can promise that I will ramble. I must, however, preface with the fact that I am neither a speaker nor writer.

Let’s begin shall we?

Who needs bullet trains when thoughts race through my head at speeds faster than I knew existed. China, Japan, and oh I don’t know, Germany? Yes, they have bullet trains but none could ever compete with mine. Let me show you a snippet of what these bullet train thoughts are like.

Am I late?

Do they like me?

I’m hungry aren’t I?

What am I doing with my life?

Does anybody know what they’re doing with their life?

Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?

See, thoughts zoom by in half a second. What bullet train can beat that? I’d wager none but by all means prove me wrong. Until then let me enjoy the ride as I go train-hopping every hour of every day. Each thought enraptures me for all but a second before the next rushes past, giving me all but half a second to reach out for it. Now, I never stay long enough to truly enjoy a thought and you can call me out for having commitment issues but what am I to do when I’ve got all of these views to see.

When I say views, I mean the libraries – every big city has one doesn’t it? I’ve got them beat. As an avid reader, I’d say that this city has it all.

The children’s books.

The YA novels.

 The classics.

 The high school textbooks.

The college textbooks.

You name it.

Walk along the aisles of the library and pick up what you want but I can’t deny that there will certainly be biased pages. I mean, who doesn’t have an opinion on 1984? Banned for being pro-communist and anti-communist; damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Don’t get me started on How To Kill a Mockingbird. And yes, I suppose you would be right in saying there is a certain sense of comfort in being surrounded by knowledge. I will admit there is also the enticing aspect of a safe haven for introverts which this library offers. You needn’t speak to a soul yet feel like you’ve been heard and seen by millions. What is more precious than that? Again yes, communication can be hard especially in a city with way too many bullet trains where nobody can hear you over the noise of those goddamn thoughts. Who built this place? Honestly, there needs to be some reorganization in this city.  

Speaking of reorganization, I have to say that this city was really well built - aside from the whole mess of bullet trains being the only form of transportation. You do get used to it, the whole hopping from train to train just to get from Point A to Point B. Just like any working adult running to catch the subway. Let me show you.

I wonder what’s going to happen today?

What day is it today?

Why am I always forgetful?

Am I getting old?

Is it someone’s birthday?

I’m such a terrible friend?

Do I have people to rely on?

I need to calm down don’t I?

I should go to the cliff.

See you can’t go directly to the cliff without having to use about 8 or 9 bullet trains each with their own loaded thoughts for you to explore. But enough about that. The cliff has got to be, hands down, the best place about this city. Before you ask, no, the cliff doesn’t overlook an ocean or the rest of the city or anything like that. Well, I’m not really sure – I don’t look down. Fear of heights you see. Can’t. Won’t. There’s no difference. I can tell you about the cliff but it’ll be from my perspective. That’s why you’re here anyways isn’t it? To see things from my perspective.

Look up.

Big, wide, expansive.

Clear – no clouds, no stars, nothing.

Panic inducing.

Look down.

Breathe.

Grass, plants, bugs.

Ew bugs. Ignore that.

Calming.

I can see why I should maybe keep my head down but what’s the fun in that? I’m sure that’s not everybody’s experience when looking at the sky. It can be beautiful but it never really seems to change. It’s a blank canvas that I can really only fill up with the half a second amalgamation of thoughts that I have in me. Maybe a quote or two. It doesn’t make sense. Things need to make sense alright? There has to be order. Oh. I guess you’re right. The population is rather limited. Alright, the population consists of me. But that’s enough isn’t it? The cliff isn’t really made for that many people. Don’t ask me why. It’s not like I created this place.

Alright, alright, you got me. I really hate this place. I feel like that small-town person wanting to get the hell out the first chance they can. Take the first bus or train or car out of here. But people make you stay don’t they? It doesn’t have to be the people who live with you, if any. But the people you talk to or listen to or interact with in general. They lull you into a sense of normalcy, bring you back from spiraling, from hopping one too many a train.

They make you see beauty in the silence of the library.

In the fact that everybody has these problems.

Their own city with their own bullet trains and libraries and cliffs.

With their own views.

Their own loneliness.

You know?

I don’t know too many people who can comfortably stay within the walls of their own mind.