Gears are spinning, and the smoke begins to fog my mind. All the thoughts running around in chaos, no rhyme or reason to their being recounted. I can’t stop them. I think about one only to have another be connected somehow, and then it takes its turn in the spotlight.
They kick and scream, fighting for my attention, fighting for me to notice them and dwell on them and give them life. But I don’t want to. I want to breathe, to have a moment of peace.
Who am I?
My thoughts claw at my identity and hold tightly to my heart and soul, digging in, trying to take root. They overrun me, and I reach towards the light from behind my eyes, hoping someone will see how much I am struggling. That they will know the fight and help me. But the kind of help I am looking for doesn’t come.
Not from the outside.
// penned December 23, 2017