The tightness wraps around my head and squeezes. The more I think about it, or try to not think about it the tighter it gets. I feel like the words, ideas, thoughts, are flowing out my ears and the wrapping them around my head squeezing me until I succumb to the pressure and drift off to sleep.
I need to find the time. The time to slowly unwrap the words from around my head and lay them out in front of me. Give them the space they need to breath so that I can breath.
They have to wait They have to settle for bits and pieces on scraps of paper, fleeting moments of creation.
They have to settle as do I because this is not the time. This is not the season of words, it’s the season of babies, and sprinklers, and ice cream. It doesn’t last.
I can only hope that they lessen their grip on my brain as they learn the patience I am trying to learn myself.