It’s possible to be too full of things.
Too full of thoughts. Too full of emotions. Too full of dreams. Too full of worries.
You get so full you can’t move. You can’t roll over. You can’t stand. You can’t walk.
And you try to write but there’s just so much up there, stuffed up in your head, and there are too many other Important things to think about than that sad story you read online or that memory you don’t want to let go or that conversation that just bothered you, really bothered you, and you’re still trying to think of a zinger reply.
Yes. It’s possible to be too full.
So the only thing left for people like me to do with their too-full brains is to write, to pour it out, to release the pressure, ease the strain, and hope for the best.
Or to sleep.