Floaters of Distractions
Right now, my inner world is glowing an orangish-brown — warm, steady, almost like a quiet room at sunset.
But drifting across it are thin, stringy yellow floaters. They don’t feel gentle. They feel like distractions — interruptions from everything happening around me. Noise. Movement. Thoughts pulling me in different directions. I’ve come to recognize these floaters for what they are: signs that my mind is being tugged away from stillness.
These colors aren’t random. They have meaning. They reflect how I feel and what I’m experiencing, even when I can’t describe it out loud. The floaters are clutter. The glowing brown is my foundation — where I live inside myself.
I’m learning that when the floaters show up, it’s my mind telling me I’m overwhelmed or distracted. And sometimes, just noticing them helps me pause, breathe, and try to come back to center.
Sometimes I can. Sometimes I can’t. But I always see them.
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