As aurora descended in the wee hours of this morning, I stared at the white of my ceiling. The whiteness, the blankness, the simplicity of it all - a one stroke colour, a one brush paintjob, simple plain white. Incomplex, simply simple.

I smiled when I thought of the word simple. Simple. How hard is it to attain it? How hard is it to simplify everything that goes in life? How hard is it to simply take a simple look at everything, every single thing? And why does this simple thing, this simplicity itself, seems to evade me, scampering away from me. My mind; all this over-thinking, over-mulling, over-contemplating, over-speculating and over-rationalizing everything that steps on my pathway, devoid any simplicity that could potentially present itself.

A friend once said to me that I make things complicated. That something that begins as a fine strand will eventually turns into an entangle web of mess on my mind. Maybe thats why it wont work out. Because everything that I touch turns into a piece of puzzle and yet another mystery, throwing myself into discombobulation, a frustration fit - when deep down, I yearn to just soak in everything without so much of having a second notion.

But thats too late now, isnt it? I dont know. We are too opinionated individuals, most of time standing on 2 different ends of an argument, that, only sometimes work. Sometimes, we complement each other, feeding on each other's opinions, completing each other's lack of perception. Sometimes, things are great. Or seemingly awesome.
But on different days, things take a different turn, a plunge dive when the heat of the discussion is too much to take, too much to take in, plunging ourselves deeper and deeper into a black hole. Blackhole of confusion, dark hole of frustration, that burns in the end. Scathingly burning. Scalding.

I dont know anymore. The loop of thoughts playing on my mind, deciding and undeciding, like some sort of cheap broken record. This mind, this mind that makes it complicated, this mind that push simplicity out of the way, this mind that feeds on paranoia, this mind that makes resolution .. and then confuse itself, frustrate itself, again and again.

I gazed tiredly at the ceiling this morning. The plain white ceiling above me. I gently Scooped out the mess that is my mind, spooning it out carefully and analyzing every little thought, every little thing that matters to me, or used to matter to me. Looking at it at different angles, different perspectives, a spoonful of pieces of mind at a time. But before I digged further, I knew I wouldnt have the answer - so I heaped the dish back, one big lump of mind and stuffed it back to where it belongs.

My heart beat fast. My heart wanted its say, chanting that something was amiss. My heart whispering tiny voices, confounding my mind, which I tried to ignore. I glanced back at the ceiling, and momentarily it was no longer plain white - but spotting streaks of yellow tinge of ages old.