The Walls of My Mind

I’ve started posting notes on the wall. Random thoughts, fragments of conversations, ideas that feel important but can’t quite make sense of just yet. It’s like I’m trying to build something, but I can’t decide if it’s a prison or a way out of it.

Each note represents a piece of a puzzle I’m still trying to solve. Some are small reminders, others are cryptic messages to myself, like I’m trying to decode my own life. It’s chaotic, but there’s something strangely comforting in it. It’s like my mind is the room, and these notes are the clues that will lead me to freedom—or deeper into the maze.

I feel like I’m constructing a map, but the directions keep shifting. What was clear yesterday feels foggy today, and I can’t tell if I’m moving forward or just walking in circles. It’s a strange kind of struggle, this need to make sense of everything, to understand why I feel trapped in my own thoughts and how to escape them.

I wonder if this is how Michael Scofield felt, mapping out his escape from the inside, with nothing but a plan and a hope to break free. Maybe that’s what I need—an escape plan, a way to untangle the mess in my mind. I don’t know if these notes will get me there, but I’ll keep adding them, keep finding the path, however twisted it might be.

Maybe this is how it happens—little by little, we either build the walls higher or find a way to climb over them. These notes might just be the key, the plan I never knew I needed. Or maybe I’m only making things more complicated than they need to be. I guess we’ll find out.

P.S. I wonder—what would happen if I started taking down the notes one by one? Would I finally see the bigger picture, or would I be left staring at an empty wall, searching for something that was never there?