When you have a constant internal monologue, then stream of consciousness is perhaps the way to go. Sadly, not an easy way to relate information – especially not the kind I want to share.
I want to share visuals, tape what I see with my eyes and have my mind-chatter as an audio overlay, a commentary. I am thousands of feet above sea level, and I want to share that. The rollercoaster stomach drops with surprise! turbulence, the softness of Monument Valley in my ears as I scroll through the animated movies (Jungle Book or Tangled? I can’t decide), the way we flew parallel to a lightning storm right after take-off. The way we parted the clouds, and if I pressed my face to the window, hand cupped to black out the TV lights in the aisles behind me, I could see the milky way forming. Slow stars, bright white, at eye level. How could I not share that.
It scares me how I can’t seem to find the words anymore. How forced my writing is. “Write something pretty” isn’t easy anymore, it’s no longer natural. No poetry from me. To write you have to read, and I haven’t touched a book in too long. My mind enjoys leap frogging. I cannot immerse myself the way I used to, I can still buy in to a plot, a character, but it takes a constant vigilance to stay alert and to eat each word. It used to be so easy, I’d lose myself in pages, speed reading, desperate to know more, constantly needing more, and more. And now no. It’s an uphill battle.