To Blink or Not to Blink?

Needless to say, I'm a flawed being. I've got into this cruel habit of going back on my own saying. I pick a phrase or a slice of conversation that I then start to dissect. It is an almost involuntary act, introspection just happens; more like the blink of an eye. Oh, that "thank you" I dropped at the station when I got my ticket. Was I smiling?What did the ticket person think of my "thank you"?

It seems like our most logic-based asset - the mind - has its winding illogical ways of selecting the element to be subject to analysis. The trivial has an irresistible charm to me. I can't help but wonder why I choose go back on certain phrases that I already uttered and that I can no longer alter. Maybe the answer lies in the sweet stillness of the fleeting moment, a repeated moment, a moment I try to grasp and release from the clutches of routine, a routine that threatens to wipe away the spark of the moment; a special warm glare that envelopes a routine-like fragment of the day and that I refuse to let go of. That delicate gust of wind and the mild caress upon my face...will I still find its magic years to come? That is one of the many apparently insipid reasons why I go back on my sayings. 

I randomly go back on phrases or words to uncover what I could, should have said differently; how my conscience isolated the moment so as to strip it of its thick cover to reach the essential core, the meaning of it and my corresponding feeling. Therefore, my endeavor is not a qualitative one, but it is a quest seeking to discover the different, the alterity. I'm tormented by this unforgiving god of alterity. If there's any authority of the kind. Should it be otherwise, a new instance has just been put into place. There! My whole concern about "different" is maybe just a regular care to determine possible variations in language, to shed light on that particular twist of phrase that sits comfortably in a shadowy recess of emotional chamber, for I'm emotional when I utter words. And emotion surrounds words like a tender mist, it changes their glow; emotion sets the tone for the perfect word carving. And emotion can be transient and volatile and hard to isolate in words. It takes that tiny bit of time when your eyelashes bow in a flash, in a blink, to freeze the emotion and transport it into what humans refer to as "words". Or maybe let it go to waste instead.