Sometimes at night I wish I could turn down the volume on my mind
I wonder who hears the whispers that
leak out of my ears like the too-loud music that bleeds out of earphones
who hears me and not the
"school-me" or the "at-home-with-parents-me"
"School-me" is quiet out of fear of saying something wrong
"At-home-with-parents-me" says more than I should
I wonder who hears the
"awake-at-one-a.m-thoughts-clashing-around-like-cymbals-BE QUIET, thoughts
Sometimes at night I have to fall asleep to silence
those nights are scary because I'm
so used to hearing my thoughts
my monstrous thoughts
I have notebooks and journals that hold the scrawled-out pieces of my mind that hide in dust-covered boxes on the floor of my closet
Shoved in the far corner next to the beheaded Barbie dolls from grade school
Please don't find them
Every night I navigate the labyrinth of maybes and wish-I-didn'ts and what-if's and I'm dreaming the wildest dreams
I'm screaming the loudest screams
Can you hear me?
Can you hear the real me?