The words come at me like a tsunami. Waves of thoughts flood my mind. One minute I’m texting in a conversation and I realize I have too much word per minute. Or tweet per minute. There’s an overflow. Even in my sleep. The words come trickling in, like light filling a horizon at sunrise. And they’re here to stay. And what do you do when you have more words than you can pay for? They’ve stealthily made their way into your cart and you’re approaching the checkout. They’re flowing so liberally but if you were talking enough to match their rate, you would lose friends. You would also lose valuable secrets. Some thoughts should never leave the border of your mind. They should never be given passports, lest they become immigrants in a hostile land. They plead with me, they’d gladly be refugees. Because some thoughts are like birds, they need to be let loose and into the sky. They’re irked by the cages we keep them in.

So. That’s when I know, I know it’s time to write. I know it’s time to offload the truck of goodies because a white empty page is hungry and waiting and as welcoming as a little child is to candy. That’s when I know that I’m not merely emotional and careless, that’s when my artistic potential is greatest because red lights won’t stop me. My thoughts won’t halt. They keep their foot on the gas pedal. And so I keep letting them out, scribbling them down. In poems, in stories, in blog pieces. They are pieces of me. But they don’t exist all the time. Just like the rain. They choose when to pour.

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