There is a lot of comfort in cryptic vagueness. It is better than being honest, easier than admitting that I have no idea what I am doing.
I feel like I have a thought. I feel like I should be–I don’t know. It is on the tip of my toungue I just cannot get my teeth around it. My lips scrape at its edges. My eyes struggle to find an angle to see what it is. Yet, I know it is there. It is just so hard to grasp. To know would be divine.
It is so hard yet so soft. I wish it were literally on my tongue eluding my teeth because then I would know it is there. I would not be awakened from its pursuit or distracted by a well meaning task.
I wish it were like something I could chew. My feeble mind grips with the thought of conceiving of wishes. If it were in my mouth grinding against my teeth and lapping against my tongue. My tastebuds to test it’s flavor.
How do I know in a moment that it is real. How do I know my conclusions are accurately accumulating to their potential. These thoughts. This hidden ideas and motivations sprinkled loosely in my consciousness are the ghost cities of paper towns.
The goal is to make something real out of that which exists in my mind. If only I weren’t a step removed. My fingers could flutter about and thoughts could be made into words.
So, I could say something vague. I could capture the feeling. I could write all that is inclined to my by the favor of wishing. Perhaps one day, I will eat and it will become a part of me. Rather than, the cheap counterfeit of obscure riddles.