writing

i haven’t really any reason to stop writing. it’s a strange way to think about it really. it would infer that i had a sort of built in reason to start. but i didn’t ...the thing is that i was writing...i just started. and there i was. no reason for it, it just happened. sort of like the big bang i suppose. it’s not like anyone came by and said...”OK, now it is time for the big bang.” and then everything exploded. no. it was just some random time, like 2:37 in the afternoon on a Tuesday and then BANg there was an explosion and stuff was flying out into space with all kinds of horrific velocities and before you knew it there were balls of gas the size of solar systems that were vortexing together and forming planets and stars and stuff. some Tuesday. not anything like last Tuesday, which was more of your general sort of Tuesday. just a regular day that comes after Monday and before Wednesday. which brings me back to writing, and why i never had a reason to stop.
there really isn’t a good reason to stop when you think about it. it’s like an illness with no symptoms...that is unless you really do stop in which case you can come down with all sorts of frightful effects. nervousness and nausea for one. i know they can hit you without warning, especially when you think you have nothing to write about and yet there is something deep down in your psyche that wants to get out. those thoughts almost have their own consciousness actually. they can tear you apart until you have satisfied their own selfish need to define and structuralize them so that they have a chance to stand on their own.
that would be a scary thought actually. a thought that could stand on it’s own and not need a pen in my hand to flesh itself out. it could wander down the streets, inciting arguments and inflaming passion and disagreements as easy and collecting taxes. a desire or a dream that walks and shows itself without any hope of containment or editing. no regard for status quo, or the norm. anything would go and you could bet your bottom dollar that something would come of it that you wouldn’t be fond of.
imagine if you will your most embarrassing moment walking into a dinner party that you have attended with all of your closest friends. the conversation stops and jaws drop as this embarrassing moment makes it’s way to the end of the table and pushes the guest of honor from his/her throne and sits down in their place belching prolifically, and emitting more gas than you would care for.
scary thought, if you think about it. it’s a good thing we have our thoughts under control.
where do they come from anyway. the thoughts i mean. not any in particular..just any of them. the fears the hopes the joys the nightmares the dreams... where was i?