The Train of Thought felt overwhelmed by the endless story arcs it could direct itself towards, in words, so many ways to write a story, which was the right one?
Judging each direction by the opinions it held–it truly felt–there must be stories that are wrong to follow–hollow.
It could choose any story-line, but became paralyzed as it analyzed each track–of interaction in distraction–by voices telling it to go the ‘right’ way. One by one they would say “wrong!”
It could not make up its mind, nor choose a path. As it tried to make a decision, thought by thought, in decision–led to indecision.
There was no right way to write, and so no wrong track to ride. It would decide that any story was a story, told by the Train of Thought.
It would choose a line, any story-line to follow, to the end and then start again, anew.
Practicing and practice it would, until it kept getting better, for growth existed, and it could only grow by choosing to follow–one thing–and any story-line would do, undistracted, and back on track, ringing it’s bell.
It would learn, and earn experience (points), giving each story a point–it would turn to the next plot, after the ending, bending around to another, other plot–with less plot holes than before, it would sore more and more through endless stories.
For what the train needed was to train itself.
Until it became what it always, in all ways, wanted to be–tell a story.