Is it weird that I consciously make decisions on an hourly basis to stay in line with my morals, but also admit that I am a dirty liar?
Technically, admitting my lies keeps me in line with my morals, though lying does not. These kind of details used to bug me, used to keep me up at night. I used to think so much, I had to make up characters and stories to occupy my mind and avoid insanity.
When I was sick, most of my thoughts were silenced. It didn’t happen suddenly. It certainly wasn’t dramatic. Because I was so tired all the time, I assumed the energy I used to spend on thinking about stories and morals was extra. My extra thoughts were pruned away.
But those thoughts were me. They came from me: my worries, my curiosities, my neuroses, my epiphanies. They lived in my mind. And then they were gone.
Am I my thoughts, or are my thoughts me?
This was the kind of question that I used to try to answer when I wasn’t creating characters that had their own problems. Yup, plenty of people would agree that I had extra thoughts.
Did those thoughts do me any good?
Yes and no. Yes, the thoughts gave shape to my personality. And no, sometimes it was too much and I just wanted the thoughts to stop, give me peace.
Eventually, after my thoughts had been few and necessary for so long, the peace came with extra thoughts, not when they temporarily went away. Now I am grateful for every creative thought, and I hope to keep it that way even when I want to scream because I’ve been awake in bed for hours.