drabbles

on overwhelming

some days i just get lost in my head, y'know; like the world is there and existing but it's so heavy, like a physical weight in my chest that my breath catches on when it tries to draw in or leave.

it's always cold, here. it's no wonder i don't like existing here.

my head isn't the best place to be, either. nor my body. it's like my body is just a little off, just a little too awkward for me to comfortably inhabit it. there's always a glitch, somewhere. like now. my fingers shake, tremble, twitch. they can't type properly. i have to go back to fix spelling errors at least multiple times. it's like a soul trying to pilot a body that's just a bit too big for it, like i haven't quite grown into it yet. like trying to wash dishes with oversized rubber gloves, your grip loose and awkward as you grip the plates and pray they don't slip amongst the bubbles.

i don't like my head either, not really. it's really bland. recycles old content when i can't think of new ones. i want to explore, want to close my eyes and see something new, novel, completely original, but then i guess that wouldn't be familiar, nor safe. that wouldn't be my head. maybe that's what i want, to screw on a new head entirely, one that lets me think straight and doesn't swell with exhaustion and loneliness and a ever-constant feeling of sadness.

there's always a voice whispering in my ear. away, it beckons, begs, calls. away, away, it chants, as if it had nothing but that one word to cling onto, a piece of rotting driftwood floating about in the empty ocean. away from what? i would ask, but i already know the answer. away from it all. away from this life, this feeling. away from this head and this body.

there's too much time. there's too little time. i grasp for it like sand in an hourglass, slipping away, and then i turn and suddenly the future stretches out before me, a yawning chasm laying in wait.

there's too much space. there's too little space. it's cold and empty and i feel so lost, then it's closing in on me and i can't breathe in this enclosed space. i've never really been claustrophobic, but i think i'm starting to understand the feeling of being trapped. like mice in a maze, not knowing if there's an exit. wandering aimlessly anyway, because what else can you do but keep going on?

there's too many people. there's no one here. too overwhelming, too much noise, and suddenly when it's all gone i look around and it's like the absence stole the breath from my lungs with it.