Getting Lost

Every so often, I love to get lost. Just drift away and think about whatever pops into my mind. I don't care how I think it, the science behind it, or the artistic expression that is me. I just care about the journey, the unfathomable road down into my own head. My consciousness loses control and I ride the wild and unpredictable waves of my own thoughts. I love to frolic and dance between my moods, sure that I am experiencing the very stuff of life. I don't really care what others think because I only exist when I do. There is no structure in my own mind that can't be torn down, no building of walls that would only serve to inhibit my thoughts. Mine is the mind of a true dreamer, someone who cares not for the destructive criticisms of others. I float freely among the clouds, knowing that I am more grounded than most. I feel alive when I contemplate life itself and all of nature around me. I smile with joy when the rain cools me down and washes away the pain and anger that others put upon me. The thunder echoes my own frustration that nobody understands where I am coming from, my own unique perspective on life. So I try to understand their's, to know what it is like to be someone else, in order to better understand what it is like to be me.