brettselbydotcomThink. Think. Think.

That’s what he does everyday. Even in the midst of people.


He seems like he’s there but its only a shadow of his true self.

His presence is a mirage. An illusion.


In as much as he may ‘mm’ and ‘aah’ with conviction at the right cues and his flesh may be present,

his spirit, the definition of who he is is ever elusive.

Its ironic.

His thoughts are about his life – what he imagines it to be in its ideal state.

But, what he doesn’t realize is that he’s wasting it away on thoughts that are characteristically fleeting.


How ever will he get what he wants then, if all he does is think. think. think.

And not live?

And how has this not dawned on him when this is his life.


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