I have thoughts so many of them. Feelings, doubts, emotions, held inside, buried deep, never allowed to be expelled. I have stories to tell, characters of this crazy little world of mine. Mildly obsessions, escapes, guilty pleasures that keep me sane.
I have this urge to find logic, a reason, something that can explain why things happen when they do, the way they do. I get caught up in the middle of other people’s problems, break ups, lives and in twisted selfish way I’m glad to be bored by them.
Expectations, high hopes, disappointment. The way you see yourself versus how everyone else perceives you are. Fear, insecurities, masks. Protecting myself from the unknown.
The constant craving of wanting what I never met, of wishing something I’m not even sure is real. Growing up, changing, understanding that there’s no point of moping your whole life.
Ideas, doubts, mess. There’s too much inside your head, too much to even make sense. Thoughts keep coming in, all the time, in a rush, how to get them? To process them? How to stop them?!
Compartmentalizing. When and how? Over filtering, over rationalization, overwhelmed with all that goes inside yourself. Wishing for a savior knowing you would never be able to trust enough let yourself go. Planning too far in advance, not being able to thoroughly enjoy the moment when your head is always 20 steps ahead. Butterflies in your stomach. Overactive thinking. Trying to force your brain to take a break and just shut off for a second.
Thinking and dreaming, always dreaming…
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