My mind is a crime scene 24/7,
every thought like a knife jabbed in my heart,
even the good ones followed with a “what if.”
Turning simple things into storms is my playground,
playing arguments in my head like a broken record,
with statements too brutal to be spoken out loud.
Silence becomes hell,
my own thoughts fighting each other,
none of them leaving room for me to breathe.
And then suddenly anxiety kicks in,
everything goes static, like a blackout zone,
my mind too tired to process anything,
yet the silence still feels heavy.
Pretending to be happy and laughing at stupid jokes—
the acts I put on while replaying every sentence I said,
asking, “Did I overshare? What if they think I’m dumb?”
I wish, just for once, I could stop it.
So I live in this messed-up world of mine,
rolling my eyes at my own thoughts like,
\"here the drama queen goes again.\"
This brain is a circus,
and the show must go on—
and so do I.
rebellious soul.