If I were a sweater, I would be unravelling by the strand. My soft fibers would be pooling into a sad pile on the floor as slowly fell away from the reality of being a sweater. I want to stop falling apart, but it seems like it happens so skillfully, leaving me no way to know how to stop it.
Sometimes I think of that saying, you have to fight fire with fire, and I wonder if maybe the best way to fight becoming undone is to undo something else. It is just a small thought, and I don't even know what it means exactly, but it is something to think about.
And who knows? Maybe one day I will wake up, suddenly understand it, and be able to finally use it to knit myself back together.
"Undone" by Haley Reinhart
YOU ARE READING
Speculations of an Artistic Mind: Jane's Thoughts
Non-FictionEveryone has thoughts. These ones are mine.
