Confucious.

I like to speak to myself in my thoughts. As a child I often wondered in what accent this conversation takes place. If different education levels change the way in which we spoke to our mind. If the language in our heads is universal or subject to what we speak outwardly. If a microphone were connected to my thoughts, ramblings several voices thick would burst forth, on seperate journeys to different conclusions. And I most certainly would be surprised to learn the things I was thinking as most of the time I struggle to keep track of it all.

I like to create stories too indepth and detailed to be expressed past the medium of thought, in order to try and keep as much of my brain busy as possible. To try desperately to guide it in one uniform direction. but distraction flashes it's wild colour and excitable possibilities and through the window goes that concentration, along with the memory of what I was busy concocting. Woe is me.

Confucious states the mind is your temple, the highest part of the body that makes the hardest problems simple - Black monks

Darn you and your structured mind Confucious.