A sieve is what he wished for – a porous membrane that would help him sift through the chaos swirling in his head.
How do you confront all heads of Hydra together? How do you choose which one to hack? How can you know for sure that two more heads would not sprout up in the place of the one you hacked off?
He wondered how a slight inkling of trouble could have evolved into a myriad of problems: problems that had determined to consume him so utterly, so absolutely as to not even leave an iota of his will unscathed. He understood now: the hollow quotes, the vague statuses he had shared on Facebook – they did not mean anything. They did not help him unravel his problems. They did not help him find solutions. All they ever invoked was a false sense of security; that somehow, the statuses, the quotes would help him exorcise his troubles.
He understood now: how intricately his thought processes were woven with his actions. How he had to chalk deeds on his slate, to clear his mind. How taking even the smallest of steps was more important than just twiddling thumbs and doing nothing.
It takes but a little stone dislodged, to set off an avalanche. And if you find yourself in the midst of one, you do not allow it to overwhelm you.
Instead you do something: you grab a boulder and hang on.