Racing

The ideas in my head are racing like Formula 1 cars. On the bleeding edge of the neurons interconnecting collectively into what appears to be the paradigm of consciousness, I can feel the tension of the sharp tip threatening to destroy my understanding of reality into an impending doom.

Yet, I had an escape button somewhere lost in the very thoughts that created this universe in the first place. A button that would bring an end to all of the suffering. Something to remember, buried deep into the neverending fields of hard soil thoughts.

I vaguely remember what it looks like. I often forget that it’s even there. But it is there, waiting to be found, waiting to come back to life after cleaning the dust all the years’ collective memories of doom.

But the ideas are still racing and I don’t know where to start.