my mind works at a slow pace

[sll]

I realize how slow and how abstract my thoughts are. But that doesn't mean that they are unimportant or less worthy than well-reasoned intellect. Just because I have these vague thoughts, that everything in my eyes is just a different shade of color, I am not less creative. Because this is what defines me, the ambiguous, the floating air. I am this empty, sure, but I am filled with emptiness. Do you understand?Let me explain. I am my living emotions, and my background is white. I think in colors and have a limited fourth grade vocabulary. I don't believe in this physical reality. Life is happening to me and I'm not letting it, thus indirectly defending the opposing side of apathetic death. But there are more gaps to this opposition, more sides to see. I am air.