Thoughts of a Foolish Dreamer

Sometimes when I write I just start typing and the thoughts and words appear like perfect, poetic lines. More often than not though, it takes some foot tapping, some laying my head against the desk, some effort to try and delve into the riveting insights somewhere in my psyche that people would actually care to read. I can sit for hours, never moving once, racking my brain for some tid-bit of truth I can fasten to the page and relieve myself of it's weight. Thoughts are heavy. A thought, if left unexamined, sits unquietly, tinting all other mental processes and burning its imprint into the soul. Sometimes I can't think clearly because that one thought, that one insistent and indomitable idea, keeps bullying its way into my head. The best way I have found to combat these unruly creatures is to capture them on paper.
Lets imagine for a second that invisible creatures exist. They run around and you know they are there, but you cannot see them. One way I think I would fix this problem is to throw colored paint on them or something. That way, the paint would define them from their environment, it would help us see them for what they truly are instead of only guessing. This is a strange and slightly fantastic example of why writing helps me define my own thoughts and understand myself a little more with each splash of ink I put to the page.