Broken strings & Pretty things

The world, seen through a young girl's eyes.

Drafts.

Looking at the unending lists of untitled and partially typed drafts strung across the contents of this blog, I can’t help face the irony of how it resembles my mind entirely. A constant swirl of ideas, half constructed, swarming and delving into my consciousness where they can never escape. Each thought has no structure or sense; all it is an incomprehensible medley which my brain is unable to conjugate into something plausible.

The chaos is unending; as soon as there seems to be some breakthrough, when the key fits into the lock, the whirlwind only beats faster and causes my confusion to new heights. All that is left behind is the empty outlines of failed attempts and plans, from which I attempted to muster the situation.

When will I be able to escape this labyrinth? When will everything be clear again? When will this draft be able to form something whole?

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