I am lost. I can never be found. Somewhere along the way, when I was wandering down memory lane, I stumbled off the path, and into the depths of my mind. I’ve been tangled up in old secrets, crumbling words that entwine themselves around my new ones, suffocating blooming thoughts. Perhaps this is for the best? Who knows how dangerous these new ideas could become. Read any gardening manual; they will always tell you that one must pluck weeds out before they grow too large and obtrusive. I am now conscious of the fact that I have to do this with my thoughts. It’s so easy to be deluded by these ideas. They disguise themselves as something worthwhile, something relevant, or even something logical. But when I delve further into these notions, it registers that they are nothing more than dandelions. Yes, they are flowers, but they are also weeds. And they overpower and multiply so quickly that although you may start with only one, by the end of the week, you will be looking at hundreds. My mind will come up with one idea, and by the end of the night, I’ll be contemplating thousands. As I said, I have somehow gone astray, and was pulled apart by these ever-twisting vines of thought. There’ll be no escaping now.