I’m tired…

As I wake up for another day full of commitments, that’s the first thing that comes up to my mind. Then thousands of others come rushing in, leaving no space for silence.

I’m not tired because I didn’t have enough sleep, but because my mind won’t shut up from the moment I wake up, to the moment I fall back asleep.

It is as if the movie “Inside Out” was playing constantly inside my head. Emotions freaking out about every little thing, even if it is just a family dinner.

The day goes by slowly. I watch things happen. I can observe from afar. I can still fill the sting in my body and the lump on my throat as if I were there. But I’m not. I’m watching the easiness with which they carry themselves around. How someone arrives and blends in so easily (I wish I could do that). How they go from topic to topic, serious to funny, and at the same time making quick and funny remarks as someone walks by.

How they laugh and dance, not vexed about what they are doing, while I’m looking at them with all my stiffness, questioning my inability to let go.

It’s Monday night. I’m walking down the street to meet some friends. I’m a bit early, so maybe I’ll have to wait. Maybe someone is already there. Will someone I don’t really know be there? What am I going to say? I plan all my possible answers in case some question is suddenly asked. For if I don’t have an answer ready, the words won’t come out, making a fool out of myself. Again.

Eventually, someone asks me a question. I feel obliged to respond. They’re all talking freely, why shouldn’t I? I conceive similar ways of saying what I want and repeat them in my head, wondering how my voice will declare them. I finally decide to speak. My voice is stuttering, my hands shaking. Nothing comes out the way I wanted to. I don’t make any sense. I’ve said something stupid. I need to stay quiet. Why don’t I ever learn?

The night ends with me forcing laughter and faking smiles. No one seems to know how my mind is noticing everything that could go wrong.

They think I’m fine, but they don’t know how my stomach is aching and how my eyes don’t seem to focus no matter how many times I blink.

So I walk home alone, replaying every little moment of the day in my mind, to see where I went wrong or said something stupid so next time I’ll have something more to worry about.

I take a long time to fall asleep. The day replays itself over and over in my head like a broken record.

Very slowly, I feel myself drifting into darkness.

My eyes open. My brain is already talking.

I’m tired…


I like to write what I’m afraid to say. I devour books and make friends out of characters. I enjoy silence more than meaningless words. I tend to overthink every situation which forces my emotions to hide in the face of rationality. Words run through my head waiting to be put on paper and to finally be apart of some story. Insomnia lurks in the shadows of my endless nights.


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