I refuse to sit in silence—but not consciously.
Each time I find myself in a quiet place, I am sempiternally stuck alone with my thoughts.
My thoughts hide from the world and everyone in it; they are merely afraid of the judging eyes that constantly dart towards them each time they escape my mind.
It angers them.
Because when those eyes disappear, my thoughts take revenge. They cause me as much pain as possible. Their jealousy caused by my lack of attention towards them simply angers them more. They scream at me until they feel as though they’ve said everything they needed to say.
It frightens me.
If I find myself dreaming before they’ve finished screaming, and those dreams swiftly turn to nightmares. Perhaps that is why I find myself lying awake for so long each night.
My thoughts screech over the sound of my fan; they mask the sound of the ice maker in my kitchen. No matter how hard I try, my thoughts never cease to shut out the movement of life around me. My internal monologue is stuck on a track that refuses to breathe.
But I would not be able to function without it.
I remain sane from the constant distraction of everything that obscures my sense of moving forward. My thoughts distract me from my fears of my future—and those of my present.
My internal monologue removes me from my surroundings whenever I forget to breathe.
I know the screaming will never end, and I am thankful.
Those screams frighten me, and those screams distract me. But those screams will forever protect me.