I hear the whispers waning, softening, searching for new and meaningless drama to voice. Octaves from the different speakers intertwined with each other. Oh, so sonorous and gorgeous, but it is nothing to me. 

In the halls, I shove my half-dead earbuds into my ears and play a song I’ve heard too many times. Songs comfort me, and I need all of the sensational effervescence right now. The walls that seemed so bright a few months ago look dingy, and the classrooms I pass daily look understimulating. 

I have so many thoughts I stress about, but I can’t seem to shake my courage and speak.

I have so many thoughts I want my little circle of friends to hear, but where do I begin? 

I have so many ideas trapped in between my earbuds, but because they’ve dematerialized in my brain, I can’t begin to tell them how I am, or how I feel. My ideas are exploring desolate, trifling terrains. I am scatterbrained, as a result, and I feel like an outcast. 

I have so many thoughts that there are too many, and now, I need to stop living in my head. 

It’s like I am not viewing the world through my own lens. My eyes are on me, but what’s in front of me doesn’t feel at all right. Whatever’s to the left of me feels irrelevant, and my peripheral vision on my right side is a solid splatter of indecipherable hues. 

My exuberance has dwindled. 

I sometimes look at myself from a few months ago. I looked like myself, and I was finally starting to go somewhere in my life. I was lucid and aglow. Undereyes clear and hair a wavy brown, I was radiant. Radiance—the most I have ever been. 

My life was a different tale every week, and for some reason, each week was more tumultuous than the last. Benevolent turmoil, estranged excellence, I thrived with my life so enchanted by fate. 

I could write a thousand columns about how much my life seems so unreal. Millions of words mean nothing to me compared to the millions of moments I spend trying to encapsulate complexity for 40 points. 

I simply can’t comprehend anything correctly right now, but at the same time, I am not the grounded soul I was a few months ago. I don’t understand why I feel so lonely or irritated. I can’t pinpoint where my sophomore fairytale began to look like a fantasy in my melodramatic dreams. 

Maybe, I dream too big, or maybe, my dreams consume my thoughts and it’s just one big battle for control. 

I have so many thoughts, and my head is too small to bolster. 

Or maybe, I just have so many thoughts, too many (probably).