Scattered Ideas

I’m a broad-vision person. It’s hard for me to concentrate in only one thing at one time. Multitasking, people may said. Sounds like a great ability, but it doesn’t turn out that way if it comes to time when you have to focus in one thing.

I have to say that I’m tortured if there are so many things going on around me. Or so many people. Or so many noise. I can’t concentrate fully in even 1 of them. I heard them together synchronized as a unchained melody. A beautiful thing, when it can’t blend with others marvelous thing, will only left as a broken thing. No one will feel the beauty with any senses. The existence becomes a threat, and so that is what happen with all the crowd around me. Whatever it’s good as a component, all I can hear is a chaos. If only I have a gift to sort it to a perfect individual, it will be an undescribably harmonious melody. I wish that be.

It felt like ideas keep entering my brain so fast, sometimes leaving in a pace that my senses couldn’t keep up. That’s why it’s important to write, to say, or document my idea in any ways. It felt good when what i think can be felt by others. But sometimes time make the proof vanish. Memories will fade away, and sometimes a very precious goods can be forgotten and vanished as the time goes by.

People say we can unite separated thing. But I’m not sure about separated ideas. Each idea grows as an individual, free, and no one knows what would they be in the future. Rearrange ideas may hurt the original destiny they will become, but on the other hand, it can become a developed ideas that can metamorph to a giant success. It always start with an idea. The rest, we could say, is a defensive mechanism to make the idea work. A prevention of the system failure. A continuous effort that makes impossible become possible.And after all, it’s just my scattered ideas that need to be stored. Can be something in the future, can be dusted and forgotten in the corner. It’s true that I’m writin it with my hand knows not about what my mind want to do. It’s what we called writing without thinking. It’s what people called a trash. But it’s what I called ‘the beginning of a masterpiece’.