Fragments and Butterflies

You know that something, that little something keeps you awake at night, there in the back of your mind, like a butterfly who flutters just out of reach when you grasp.

You start to wonder if its there at all, or nothing more than a figment of imagination. Is it important? You wonder. You wonder how something that isn't quite there, that continually slips away from your mind's eye, can feel of great importance. Important enough that you waste hours trying to reach it. Important enough that it keeps niggling at your concious, always there, but not quite.

My mind is made of fragments. I can come across as odd, when those fragments slip by the barrier between mind and reality. I say things that don't quite fit. They come out of nowhere, making little sense. Just fragments of thoughts that are in passing. I often confuse others.

I feel somewhat disconnected at times. Like there's a glass barrier between myself and reality. I see myself there, talking with others, but always apart. My body is there but my mind is up in the clouds, like I am watching myself from a birds eye view.

I wish I could put my finger on that something, then maybe my mind would find some rest.