What’s in a brain?

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Who?

What?

Where?

When?

Why?

How?

Six simple questions that my brain is constantly asking or answering. Sitting in the attic of my body, what else is there to do?

Regulations.

Tidbits.

Technicalities.

Racing through the depths of my brain. Reminding me of societal rules. Reminding me of all my flaws. What I could do wrong.

Left.

Right.

Straight.

Directions dictated by my brain. Keeping me alive. Warning! Wall ahead. Turn this way. Yet governing my life. That’s stupid. Don’t say that out loud.

Dates.

Facts.

Figures.

Important things I will one day forget. Right after the test or in a few years, the majority of these will be distant ideas that missed the tangible part of the strainer.

Lyrics.

Quotes.

Leaders.

Inspirational parts of my life that will last longer than the rest. Concepts that make me happy. That make me feel like a full glass.

Love.

Anger.

Sadness.

The colorful beings inside my head. Using their console to tell me how to react or feel. Showing what I love to do. Letting me know when it is okay to be mad. Deciding when I am crying on the inside and when it’s okay to cry outside.

Morals.

Beliefs.

Guiding words.

Haze of almost thoughts. Flashlights of burning questions. Post-it notes of reminders. Tattoos of quotes. Slideshows of memories.”

Words my life revolves around. What I go back to when I feel lost. What I do when I see something that hurts.

Colors.

Objects.

Letters.

I learned when I was a little child playing away my time. Learning from experience. Learning for fun. The parts of school that got caught in the strainer. That are kept in the photo album of the brain, not the filing cabinet.

Memories.

Friends.

People.

Burst into the first spot of shuffle randomly throughout the day. Certain words trigger my brain into thinking of people. Songs flood my brain and only memories containing those songs in the background stay afloat.

Haze of almost thoughts. Flashlights of burning questions. Post-it notes of reminders. Tattoos of quotes. Slideshows of memories.

Bouncing around in the hamburger meat I call my brain. Going through the various ups and downs of thought.

Everyone is different.

Wild brainstorms burst in that could be million dollar ideas but stay locked inside the thing that allows me to not run into walls.

The contents of my brain. Hugs of familiarity, yet chasms of unknown.