Thoughts of a mentally ill woman.
|The sounds of silence that are currently infiltrating my mind should be worrisome. They should warrant some sense of fear, yet the two emotions that are blaring in my mind consist of only paranoia and comfort. |
I can say wholeheartedly that paranoia and comfort are two feelings that should never overlap. Yet in this moment, they fit together like the perfect pieces to finish a puzzle. A puzzle that only exists in my mind.
I am currently listening to the otherwise irrelevant noises that in this moment feel booming. The blades of my ceiling fan circuiting, the heavy breathing of my partner next to me, my own shaky breathing.
Normally, I would not even notice these minor details. But tonight, they are all I can focus on as my brain tries to make sense of my own irrational thoughts.
I cannot help but feel an eerie sense of sinking. Almost like I could fall into the space between what is my reality and the space around me. The vastness of it all makes me uncomfortable.
At this point my heart is beating so fast that I am sure I am having a heart attack, but I cannot understand why, as I am not scared or frightened.
I just feel overwhelmed with these sounds. They are not completely silent, but they may as well be at any other given time. Typically, sounds like these are crossed out during my day. I could not remember hearing the noises even if I tried.
Yet, right now, in this moment, I cannot help but to ask myself why am I so hyper-focused on these sounds of the night? Why is the night, this night, bringing my inner thoughts to the fore front of my mind?
Is it necessary for me to have to listen to this? Is there a way I can shut these thoughts out and focus on closing my eyes and drifting into a reality I can create in my dreams? One where the sounds of silence do not encompass my every waking thought?
Even still, I continue to listen to the sounds. I listen to them like they are an old friend laughing and telling me about their life. Their stories that they have been dying to tell me and only can in this moment.
I listen to my own voice in this head of mine and take some relief in knowing that I am the only one who holds the key to my thoughts. My mind is a fort, but I am the only one who knows how broken I am.
I cannot explain why, but I take solace in this fact. If I am the only one who knows, then maybe this is not true reality. Maybe, this is just the reality my brain has concocted as a way to have my mind plays tricks on itself.
To an extent, it is comforting that I can rest knowing that I am safe within these walls of maddening thoughts. No one can hurt me here.
It is just me and the sounds of silence.