down

Sometimes, I want to burn everything down and start my life all over. Other days, I am frightened by how forgetful I can be.

I guess forgetful isn’t exactly the word— it’s more of a misplacement issue when I really think about it. If I had to describe the feeling, I’d say my head feels like a cloudy greenhouse overflowing with flora growing too fast. Every damn thought needs trimming, watering, and tending, or else they’ll break the glass or die off completely. Leaves and vines push against the seams of my skull, and I spend too long researching why my head hurts, why I can’t keep it quiet instead of considering there could be a cure.

I don’t understand how everyone does it, how everyone knows exactly what to do and how to do it. There’s always been something heavy in my head that brings me to my knees on bathroom floors and keeps me marooned in places I shouldn’t be.