Today I’ve been thinking a lot about what I’m thinking about. It’s this thing I do where I’m absolutely convinced there’s a little nugget of crucial information that’s hidden somewhere deep inside my cortex. I find myself zoning out trying to pry as deep into the folds of my brain as I can to retrieve this bit of information. My head starts to hurt and feel woozy from the sheer force of the digging. The inability to find this thought, this thing I feel I am forgetting, causes me unease. I’ve done this my whole life, since I can remember being able to remember. I drift into myself and burrow into my thought process, what is it that I’m looking for? What is this elusive thought I should be thinking?
Sometimes I wonder if there is truly a specific thought. If it’s the same one I’ve been trying to find for years. Or perhaps it’s a different thought every time and since I can never reach it the synapses stop firing only to return later with new information I’ll never find. Most of the time I believe it’s a manifestation of my own anxiety. The failure to gain control.