The pressure that consistently thinking about something provides, drains us. It is a type of sickness that never leaves the over-thinker.

To relieve ourselves of that pressure, we look for a solution, which is to think nothing.

Your solution gives you another problem. To think nothing, you think of thinking nothing. But you didn’t brace yourself for this downward spiral and the exertion increases.

A writer’s mind incessantly is aware of one’s own thoughts. They live for what goes inside their minds, which sometimes is not that pleasant.

The “thinking nothing” solution-problem is widespread amongst us, writers. We bury ourselves in deep thinking about our ideas for stories, its themes, poetry and how to say something that sometimes, we crave silence of our minds.

The problem of the solution-problem is that the way we learned to fix things is by “thinking” about it further. So to inhabit that silence of the mind, we follow the downward spiral of thinking of thinking about nothing.

The endpoint stretches itself into a longer journey of achieving, ironically, nothing. All we are able to do is nothing about achieving nothing.

So, we think again.

How not to think about thinking about nothing?

The loop tightens and the end stretches further. All we are now is the ironic manifestation of our land, the Earth. Just a speck lost in the universe of, nothing.

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