You Thief Me Not

 

Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar? It was probably the same person that stole the words from my brain. Yes, surely it is one and the same. I’m thinking, if we join forces and try to capture the culprit and force him to return the stolen goods, we can all benefit and maybe even save others from the same terrible fate.

I think this thief preys on the weak. My brain is probably super easy to tap these days, what with all I’m demanding of it. Not only does it have to remember to tell my heart to pump and my muscles to move, it also needs to memorize copious amounts of information and regurgitate them on paper during a few high-pressure hours. Beyond those, it also has to constantly encourage my body to keep moving and keep coming up with new thoughts and fantasies to distract me from my pain. I sympathize with it, truly. That’s why I don’t blame my poor brain for being so vulnerable. It’s not its fault.

Now that we’ve established how the thief chooses its next victims, let’s move on to how he executes his crimes. My brain is most susceptible when I’m sleeping, of course, but I think that those hours are relatively safe because I close my shutters at night. Shutters keep brains safe, I believe. After much pondering, I have concluded that he must be operating while I sit down to write. This makes sense. Do you get it? It’s the perfect moment to act, while my brain is open and spewing, he can just come and pick out the best of the best.

Is the thief working alone? So I believe, for is he were not I would surely see someone else gallivanting with my words, and it has not come to that. Yet.

How will the thief be stopped? How do I restore my words to their proper domain and protect the future ones from being lost?

This is my plea for help,

Ella

 

Song Quote:

As he faced the sun he cast no shadow, bound with all the weight of all the words he tried to say. –Cast No Shadow, Oasis

 

P.s. If you help, I promise to share the cookies with you when we reclaim them.

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