Tangled

A convoluted mass of thoughts. She tried to pick through the noodles that was her mind, with reasoning as her chopsticks.

She tried. Real hard.
They failed. She would manipulate and manoeuvre. There were times when she almost managed. But they would slide off the sticks; the very second she thought that she had got it right. Practice, she thought. She had to get better at it. Some day.

Or maybe she had to change her chopsticks.