She meant my cerebellum and corpus callosum and amygdala, but I didn't correct her.
"Every word going through your mind is pertinent. Did you know that? I don't know why you don't write your thoughts down more often."
Because I'd rather not let anyone see inside, that's why. Because I'd rather censor what people see so that each person has a specific version that I've cultivated specifically for them. Everyone has a piece of me. No one has a whole. I don't know who I'm saving it for, but I certainly don't want it and I only show God my thankful side.
All this happens inside me, but I only give her a piece--
"I just don't think they're that important."
I changed this into a poem for poetry class. In case you haven't checked out the Practice Makes Perfect page where I'm featuring my poetry, it's there.