At the Mercy of My Brain

I’ve got a problem that occurs in the period of time between when I was born and when I will die. It’s a problem I like to call “Shayne’s Brain.” I can’t seem to grasp control of my brain. It makes me do things.

That’s all I know.

I don’t really understand how it works. I asked, and he ain’t talking. Or thinking, as it were. Were it? Really. I need to know. Were it?

So my brain does things or doesn’t do things whether or I want it to or not to. Sometimes it doesn’t do anything whether or don’t want it to or not.

I don’t like cats, and I’ve never even been up in space.

For example, right now, at this moment, I wish to write a blog post about how my brain seems to control me more than I control it. My brain won’t let me.

I don’t like cats. Where is space?

See what I mean? What’s this business about cats and space?

Let’s think about cats for a moment.

Earlier when I was trying to work, my brain kept wanting to write for this blog. I really needed to work. It’s as though I don’t know who we are any more sometimes.

Let’s send cats into space!

Shayne out.

Brain in.

Wait!