Lost Thoughts

"It's been a long time since I took a breather..." I start in my head, and instantly feel a rush of thoughts that begged to be written down immediately. I click on the notepad icon on my taskbar... nothing happens. The CD I'm burning has been stuck at 77% forever, partially hanging the computer and forcing nothing to be done.

"It's been a long time since I took a breather..." I start again, repeating the phrase in my head so that I don't forget how to start my story. But this time it sounds no more meaningful. I feel my mind shift from a calm contentedness into an internal frown. I actually feel the frown, but I don't think it's visible on my face. An internal frown.

"It's been a long time since I took a breather..." My eagerness to write fades at an inverse exponential speed, so quickly like someone trying to catch the falling leaves of summer with his bare hands. It's no use. They're falling fast, on a one-way street to gravity, and it's no use. The ones already fallen are no use. The ones on their way are doomed. The ones still not fallen know their fate.

My enthusiasm fades as quickly as it comes. Always. This I know for a fact. Writers never hold on to a muse for too long. We are travellers in an ethereal world, jumping between states of transition without sitting down, but standing and looking around, then getting back on the train. Sometimes we write about it, sometimes we smile, and sometimes the train whisks us out of our minds.

And we follow. As I do now, after terminating that pesky, stupid burning process that will never succeed. Some things are never meant to.

As I try to regain my original thoughts I find, to no surprise, that I cannot. It's the way things are. It's just the way it is. Those thoughts have been lost.

But all in, it's been a long time since I took a breather.