Syllables and sentence fragments run through my mind. Bits and pieces of conversations, I can almost hear the sadness in their voice, or the laughter of the moment or even the anger hidden behind them. I can see each cursive letter, each period, and comma. The explanation points and the question marks. They’re confused and running into each other. Not one knows where it’s meant to be or who it’s suppose to go with. As I lay alone at night I try to make sense of them. I try to put two and two together. It equals 4 right? I don’t know anymore. It all looks like a disaster and it keeps me up for hours trying to unjumble the mess. My mind is my prison. A cluttered room. Each thought is hidden away or thrown about on the floor. A part of it here, a piece of it there. Memories are stored away, some are preparing to be burned, some are on waiting. Thoughts come and go as they please, taunt me when they wish. Each night I try to sort little by little and when I think I’m on to something they bring a friend home and I have to start all over again. Anxiety, It’s a mentally exhausting battle within yourself, a never ending circle of unanswered questions and what ifs. What are we? Masses of solid space on a tilting globe? it constantly leaves you wondering who you are, who you used to be and who you’re supposed to be. If I barely know how to handle myself, how could you? Our mind is fragile, our emotions on edge, we need to be handled with patience and understanding. Each action we perform, every word spoken, every decision we make, as small as it may be, is life changing. Everything happens for a reason is a saying that is both a blessing and a curse, I feel as if I make the wrong choice I can alter my fate. I feel crazy, sometimes I need to be reminded that I’m not.
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