Question

Noise Complaint..


My thoughts don’t whisper,
they pace.
Heavy boots on the floor of my brain
at hours meant for rest.
Sleep and I are acquaintances now,
nod politely, never stay long.
The dark is when everything clocks in
memories, what-ifs, unfinished sentences
that demand explanations I don’t have.
I argue with myself like it’s a full-time job.
Every version of me wants the mic,
and none of them agree on the truth.
Confidence feels like borrowed clothes
looks right from far away,
itches the moment I move.
I smile like punctuation,
placed where conversations expect it.
I’ve mastered the art of sounding okay,
even when my chest is a locked room
with alarms going off inside.
People say, don’t be so hard on yourself,
like there’s an off switch.
Like I didn’t learn this language
from surviving things I couldn’t name out loud.
My past doesn’t chase me.
It walks beside me,
points at reflections,
asks, remember this?
Fear isn’t dramatic.
It’s practical.
It reminds me of everything once broken
and labels it possible again.
Still
I wake up.
I show up.
I carry all this noise
and don’t let it speak for me.
I’m not calm,
but I’m conscious.
Not fearless,
but refusing to disappear.
And maybe that’s strength
not silence,
not perfection,
but choosing to stay
even when your own mind
tries to vote you out.
I am not the storm in my head.
I’m the one standing in it,
learning which thoughts to let pass
and which ones don’t get my name.

Answer 1

THS is beautiful and I love that you take the time out of your day/night too do things and express yourself !!!!

Answer 2

This is so cool and nice job keep doing more I love them