frazzled

I think I am just tired. And my brain is frazzled. And I am upset that I just used the word "frazzled" and that I keep starting sentences with "and." And I guess it's useless to keep second-guessing myself. It's useless because all it does is keep me spinning in a circle until I get dizzy and give up. Maybe it would be wise to walk the perimeter of my brain. Let me see what's up there, inch by inch. I want to hide away in the right angles and lose myself in the obtuse triangles. Maybe most of my brain contains "maybes" and "ands," but there must be some space dedicated to the traces of light that leak out of the cracks of my half-closed eyes. If I only see what I perceive, then I will be blind to both beauty and despair; in other words, I will be bland. I want to give richness and flavor to whatever's cooking up there in my head before it fries. I want to try to taste the subtleties before they become casualties and have to be thrown out with yesterday's news.