A very rich text about feeling a type of exhaustion, an existential one, but still with a hope in there somehow
Usually my mind is potent, l I’ll just go grab a string of pearls from there
Like a necklace
Which I show to everybody’s delight
My brain
It used to be full of thoughts
But now there is nothing there
No strings of pearls.
It’s just like the inside of an empty oil barrel
And
I have no thoughts on that fact
But
But
From where then, would someone might ask that: why is this state of mind then so beautifully (arguably) described?
Do I have more barrels than one or something?