five seconds of thinking from a rainbow wallflower

 

1.

 

Something has happened. 

I can feel it- I see mouths 

moving and lips twisting 

around words and I can 

feel the heartbeat of 

something in my chest. 

Is that me? Is the heart mine? 

 

For a moment, I do not 

feel real. The world blinks 

out temporarily- almost 

too fast to be noticed until 

later, when I am staring up 

at my ceiling, and insomnia 

is staring right back at me. 

I am fumbling for the strings, 

for the reins, for something, 

please- there are lights 

flashing, is that an officer 

pulling me over? Wait, but 

am I not on a sidewalk? 

Or is this a road? Am I a deer 

in headlights, the deer my 

father sent to hell? Rudolph 

did not commit enough sins 

to deserve that south bound 

trip. Is it my turn to go next? 

 

2.

 

I’m reaaaalllly confused. 

Please, just pause a moment. 

Or 2. Or 45, the more the

better because this world 

is not just revolving- but God 

has smacked the globe so 

hard that I am dizzy from 

just how fast it is spinning. 

Are you asking me questions? 

Do you expect to get any

answers from me? Hell, I 

am not even sure what my 

name is right now. I am 

speedrunning through my 

mental code to try and 

figure it out- every college 

drop out worker in my brain is 

trying to decode what is going on. 

 

3.

 

I get maybe half of it. 

I understand what you are 

saying, a little bit, but what 

do you want from me? I can 

try and add an anecdotal- 

would you like a story? Or is 

that too narcissistic? I can 

add a piece advice- no? 

You do not want help? I am 

so sorry. I am just trying to be 

what you want. What you need. 

 

I try to step in, I try to 

maneuver my way through, 

but every turn has already 

been spoken for. Every person 

is already involved. Every 

piece of the cast has already 

been taken- was there an 

audition for friendship that I 

missed out on? Is there a script 

for conversation that slipped 

out from between my fingers? 

Why does everyone know when 

and what to say, except for me? 

 

4.

 

Oh, it is finally my chance 

at speaking! I open my mouth…

and words will not form. I can

not convince my muscles 

to move. What was I going to 

even say? My neurons have a 

bad case of social anxiety- 

my brain is tying itself into a 

knot so it will not have to 

perform in front of everyone 

else. What is the point of even 

attempting to think when every 

thought has a self-detonation? 

I am trying my best to be apart of 

it all, but it is killing me to even try.  

 

My temporal lobes are 

committing kamikaze, my 

frontal lobe has turned 

around a “Closed Sign” 

on its front door- my ears 

have become nothing but 

accessories to remind me 

of my failures. What is the 

point of having a body if it 

does not want to work? 

What is the point of 

existing if it will never be 

in the right kind of way? 

 

5.

 

I am always late. 

I will always be a step or a 

mile behind of everyone else. 

There is nothing that can 

change that. No amount of 

early starts can change 

the fact that in the middle 

of the race, my legs will seize 

and my spine will paralyze. 

People keep commending 

me on my adaptability- 

that implies I am changing 

to keep myself from dying off. 

 

If I am getting better, 

why am I still so far behind? 

If all of this is what I 

am supposed to do, 

why was I not made 

this way to begin with?