Where Thoughts Go When You Don’t Feed Them

You sit in a chair,
quiet,
or so you think.

But your mind is loud,
a cathedral of echoes—
not angels, not demons,
just leftovers.
Scattered fragments of old conversations,
unlived fears,
arguments that never really ended,
versions of you
that never even existed.

You believe this voice,
this constant monologue
wearing your name like a borrowed coat.
But listen closely—
it speaks with too much certainty,
too fast
to know the truth.
It fills in gaps
like a nervous child doodling
to avoid blank spaces.

Most of what you hear in your head
isn't wisdom.
It's not prophecy,
not divine inspiration.
It’s just
habit.


---

You learned to doubt
before you learned to breathe.
Before peace ever made a home in your chest,
you made room for defense,
for explanation,
for "what if,"
for rehearsing pain
like an actor waiting
for a scene that never comes.

And so the mind feeds.
It loves tension.
Loves it more than clarity.
More than truth.
It snacks on half-sentences,
on glances that meant nothing,
on pauses in texts,
on old laughter
that wasn’t even about you.

You think it’s trying to help,
but it’s just trying to stay busy.


---

I know,
I’ve been there too—
chasing a thought like it held the answer
to some grand secret,
only to find
it was just smoke
with a voice.

You hold tight
to what your mind whispers,
as if every word
deserves a throne.

But not every thought is valuable.
Some are just static—
filler,
noise,
junk mail.

Yet you give them keys
to your mood,
to your breath,
to the way you love people
before they even speak.


---

You must ask yourself,
What’s real?

That story
your mind built in the shower—
is it real?
The one where someone betrays you,
abandons you,
misunderstands you
without having ever said a word?

No.
It’s just another fiction
written by an ego
afraid of not being needed.

The mind is a brilliant maker
of drama.
It writes pain where there is none,
it stitches insecurity
from silence.
It wants material,
and peace
doesn’t sell tickets.


---

But peace—
oh peace—
peace doesn't shout.
It doesn't cling.
It asks,
softly,
"What’s really happening now?"

It invites you
to ask for clear information.
To check,
to clarify,
to breathe
before conclusions.

If you want peace,
you won’t trust the first draft
of every thought.
You will pause
before you sign your name
to its nonsense.


---

The mind likes to jump—
it’s good at jumping—
but terrible at landing.

It lands on suspicion,
on jealousy,
on worry that wears disguises
and calls itself “just being careful.”

You think you're protecting yourself,
but really,
you're fueling ghosts.
And ghosts love
to be fed.


---

I tell you this
because I love you.
Because I know
how long you’ve danced
with your own shadows.

I know how long
you’ve mistaken fear
for intuition.
How many nights
you’ve laid awake
unraveling stories
that never happened.

And I know
the quiet hunger
for something simpler—
for a mind that rests
like a leaf
instead of spinning
like a wheel.


---

You don’t have to believe every thought.
You don’t have to obey every surge
of narrative that rushes in
like a storm
to rearrange your weather.

You can say,
“No, not today.”
You can say,
“I’ll wait for the truth.”
You can say,
“This story doesn’t deserve my heartbeat.”

And when you do,
when you stop giving your power
to the voice
that sounds like you
but doesn’t love you—
then, you start to feel it.

The stillness
beneath the chatter.
The breath
beneath the breath.
The truth
beneath the reaction.


---

Peace doesn’t need a microphone.
It just waits.
Patiently.
For you to stop listening
to echoes.


---

So the next time your mind
offers you another drama,
another loop of "what if,"
another backroom theory
about why someone didn’t call—
don’t follow.

Ask instead,
“What do I know for sure?”
Ask,
“What’s here now,
not yesterday,
not imagined,
but now?”

And if the answer is
nothing,
no threat,
no crisis—
then smile.
You just saved yourself
from another war
that never needed fighting.


---

Because when you understand
how empty thoughts really are,
how they dissolve when you don’t hold them,
when you don’t feed them,
when you don’t name them as truth—
then you become free.

And you begin to live
not as a servant to thought,
but as the sky
beneath which thoughts pass.

You are not what you think.
You are what remains
when the thoughts fade,
when the storm ends,
when silence says,
“Welcome home.”

#Mindfulness #LetGoOfEgo #MentalHealthAwareness #Overthinking #InnerPeace #SelfAwareness #HealingJourney #EmotionalIntelligence #SilenceIsPower #ThoughtDetox