the threads in her head

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You'll only find comfort when you ask for it. How silly it is to stop asking.

The silence of the night, it fills the surroundings. Not in an uncomfortable way. No. It fills it up nicely, like a warm blanket on a cold night. That's how right it feels.

It's a good time for thoughts. A time where you can just snuggle into the corner of your sofa and think. In fact, the lateness does not matter - one is fully awake. There's no sleepiness muffling and blurring the thoughts. The thoughts feel right, coming up and forming abstract patterns and shapes before dissolving into other shapes.

There's no word to describe those shapes. A word has not been found for them yet. It is better this way somehow.

But where are those who care enough to listen to those thoughts that one would like others to know?

It does not matter? I'm not so sure.

Maybe it really does not matter.

Idiocy still finds one though as one starts thinking about words to express the thoughts. Choosing the right words, seeing how they fit together - composing.