Lost in Translation.

Don't you hate it when something is at the tip of your tongue?

Your tongue has something to say but your mouth can't support it.

Your voice stands to reason but your throat won't allow it,

and all that power you once had, just a moment ago,

the power to be coherent,

the power to communicate,

it's all gone.

Don't you hate that??

There are so many thoughts i wish i would've written down,

and so many anecdotes i cook up in my mind that don't have the opportunity to be heard.

Sometimes i hear someone else say something that i have thought but never said,

and i feel like that's the universe kicking me in the stomach. 

In that moment, the universe is saying to me :

"See what happens when you don't acknowledge your own brilliance Shoni?

 IT BECOMES SOMEONE ELSE'S".

Come on, i can't be the only one!

I'm not just limiting this to phrases, i mean it goes for everything.

Sometimes i hold thoughts in just because i fear being "corny-deep",

you know the "deep" i'm talking about,

the type of "deep" where surely the author must have drowned,

but today, i have decided to paddle through the waters a bit.

Think of all the cobwebs, thickly tangled and plentiful, 

surrounding the very depths of your subconscious.

All those secrets and lies that have been building up over time,

pushed down so deep,

it's almost like they never happened.

Now think about how hard it is to get to that point,

the stages of grief you go through first,

the literal cabinets you could fill with words unsaid,

truths yet to be revealed.

and thoughts never acted upon. 

                                               It's just as good as it is bad.

But i think that in this case it amounts to self-monitoring,

which allows it to become a coping mechanism,

 that disallows us to be fully mindful and in touch with reality.

It's just as bad as it is good.

I mean, if you look at the ideas that form from the thoughts that do make it out,

then, if you look at all the tragedy and evil that forms from the words that are said,

imagine all the lost ideas and brilliant anecdotes,

as well as all that "Judgement Day" gloom and ultimate doom,

lost a bus stop somewhere,

in the small dainty town of Translation.