I see that thread again.

That blasted thread! I’ve already let go of everything I cared for. I look at them, all scattered on the floor. I've given up. But I’m left hanging by this thread that has become somewhat of an old friend by now. I’ve been here before. Why can’t I just snip it off? No strings attached. Like everyone else. But I can’t bring myself to. I know that it’s the very last thing that’s keeping me from falling. In fact, I should be grateful that it’s there at all. Not everyone has a conscience, it seems.

All it took was someone to believe in you.

To be able to see beyond the facades you unknowingly put up. To understand what your reactions meant. To care even though it hurt. Simply because no one else could. That’s just the way it is sometimes. Some people can. Some people can’t.

But one day, you will show us all that there is no glory in human judgement. You will rise higher than any of us could imagine. And we will marvel that what we once saw as foolish, will now show us how we were all the foolish ones.

Limited capacity can be a good thing.

There are some things that I just cannot measure up to others. I cannot do as great, handle as much, understand as well. I just don’t have the capacity. And I know it. That’s the weird thing about the brain – it’s complex enough to know that it’s not complex enough. That leaves me with the question of what I fill it with. When I realise I’m drowning in worries and self-doubt. I have to take a step back and fill it with bigger stuff till there’s no more space for the small things.

Knowing me is like eating cornflakes.

When all the new-fangled cereals are gone, it's there, shoved to the back of the shelf. Tiptoe to reach in a grab it. Pour it into a bowl, get a spoon, dig in and munch on it. Mindless chewing. Like a cow on grass. But it’s good old cornflakes as expected. If it gets too boring, add some milk, fruit or honey. They enhance the bland flavour a little. And if we dare get a little creative, cornflake cookies make a better treat. But other than that, what you see is what you get.

So I’m walking along.

I take good, long strides. Until I discover that there are more crossroads than thought. I turn left, I turn right, I ask for directions. Then I walk right into a wall. Wait a minute. I didn’t see that coming. Oh well. At least it eliminates one direction. So I get up and turn around. Behold! I see a wide open field in front of me. I walk. I run. And then I’m flying! Higher and higher. I can see everything below me. And ow! There’s a wall up there too. I crash down to earth.

The darkened living room felt so cool.

The bedroom could do with some of that. So I went in and threw open the windows. The breeze gushed in. No rain. No mosquitoes. Just the breeze. Perfect.

I was lying still on my bed and the wind just swept right across the length of my body, tickling my skin with light gusts of breath. And I thought to myself, of all the majestic glories of nature that the world has to offer, nothing touches me more closely than the wind. Like a father’s stroke on my back. Coaxing me to sleep.

Psalms 135: 7 - He brings the wind out of His treasuries.

I love my car.

He’s a tall, dark handsome one. With a fat ass. And winks at me every time I come near. We’ve encountered a couple of bumps and scratches so far. But that just makes me love him more.

Then there are others who join us on our journeys. On some of them, I discover something new about my car. How to push the right buttons. How to test the limits. And I gain respect for what he can or cannot do.

But I’m careful with who he meets. Don’t want him to be taken for a ride.

Couldn’t sleep.

Whatever that needed to be done is done now. The lights are off. My body finds a comfortable spot. My eyes shut out the skulking shadows. But my thoughts begin ping-ponging inside the cavity of my mind. All day, they had been pushed to the back lobes. But now, when there’s nothing else to distract my senses, they creep out like wary mice, looking to play. They wrap themselves around my head, gnawing at reason, suffocating my consciousness, till time is relegated to a darkened, distant haze. My conscience is rubbed raw. My will relents. My mind resigns.

All or nothing.

“I want all or nothing at all.”

But it’s got to start with something you want isn’t it? You want it so badly, that you can’t have nothing but. It’s got to be the absolute joy, complete satisfaction and brimming fullness of all.

Or nothing.

But nothing only becomes an option only when you can’t get all. After all, nothing means nothing without knowing what all means.

How do we come up with these things? We don’t. We’re just made in the image of someone, who in the same way, wants us all or nothing at all.