Like drops of rain…

The first time is always the hardest. Usually it is, anyway. For me, it always is.
I’m waiting. Waiting for thoughts to fill this void, just like I wait for images to fill my thoughts so they can fill the paper. There is always this feeling that something great is right there, but just not formed into anything substantial. Time ticks by and occasionally an idea of interest will emerge. Sometimes I just have to start and it comes. Its that initial start I have a hard time with. That and self censorship.
There are times when it is easier to formulate something and feel a bit of enthusiasm for the process. This is not one of those times for me. I’m flailing. Its all a matter of perception, I guess.
Recently I was watching a raindrop on the window of a bus shelter. The wind was blowing and the drops were edging across the window like paramecium. And that made me wonder if these drops were still “drop”. They were water and made little spots on the glaze, but I’m not sure they were drops. And if they had their own consciousness, would they think of themselves as drops still? Did they ever? Were they drops long enough to consider themselves as drops? I don’t know and I guess I don’t really care.
My thoughts are like those drops. I’m not sure if they’re much self-aware. And I’m not sure I really care that much either. But I want to keep seeing them do something.


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