My brain is flooded with thoughts; many random, firing off like roman candles high school boys ignite at 1:00 AM some hot, humid early July night with cicadas singing their disapproval just beyond the veil. They hang in the night air, brilliant and attention seeking, yet they last but a moment before extinguishing, leaving behind nothing but the memory of the interruption and the emotion of the thought.
Oversharing occurs within me when I am already in communication with someone and that roman candle flares to life. Each shell starts with surprising softness. It leaves the stick with a thump before quickly igniting as it travels along whatever axis the stick has been aligned. So too is the supposed physical journey of my now intruding thought; somewhere in the depths of my brain stem a neuron has rudely seen fit to ignite. Carried by its own natural physics (for I am helpless to alter its course), it flies to the top of my head before deflagrating. As it falls back down to earth, it covers the rest of my brain in its residue before the it vanishes as quickly as it came.
When I am mentally or physically tired, I am unable to hide that uncontrolled explosion from others, and the thought that has so quickly burst upon me does not stop at the top of my skull but must continue upwards and outwards. My conscious self is but a mere conduit for the output of that explosion; I can no more keep the thought to myself than I could deny myself oxygen. For I am not its master but merely its caretaker. It submits to no one, yet at certain times it will allow me to manage it, just as a wildcat may allow a human to care for it, but will never allow a human to master it.
