Soap Opera.

Plates, spoons and forks. It's that time of the day when i wash the dishes. It's when i think, deeper than usual. I don't speak much when i wash, it's when my brain does it's job. Get Inspired. This is what my brain said to me last night:

"Take risks, you'll never know when it'll be the last. We can never say what will happen, but atleast we tried. You know you want to, but you're scared. This isn't the Migs i know, not at all. Why are you scared to jump? You'll fall? everyone does, it's just a matter of How [Migs picks up a plate]. You say you'll just sit there, do nothing and just let it go, that's the worst thing you've thought of doing since [censored]. Okay, so maybe not now, maybe not in the next few months, but when? I hope you do something, 'coz your Heart over there is agreeing with me, for the first time in years."

*okay, so a talking brain is weird. i get it.
a lot more was thought of that night, but it was just going 'round and 'round. The plates were spotless, the utensils clean, the kitchen was done. Satisfied? Maybe, but not quite there yet. If there's one more thing i'd like to clean up, it's this mess i made. I need a lot of detergent to get it right, a lot of words, but more actions to go with it. A LOT of people won't understand what i wrote here, but i only need one to understand this.

Good Night.