I can hear the woman

Next to me breathing.

I can hear the man

Next to me thinking.

I can hear the voices

Screaming in my head.

I wish I could fill the room

With airy silence.

I wish I could slow

My speeding heart

And itchy fingers,

But no one knows.

They are unaware

Of the girl with a

Million voices in her head,

A sudden noise or jolt

Can put my whole body in a frenzy.

In that moment, I swear

I'm going to die.

No one knows

Of the girl with anxiety and depression

Because everything is in her head,

Or maybe the world would be a better place.

If only emotional pain was as visible

As the scars she tries to conceal with

Foundation that is too dark for her skin.

I'm not really sure if this is much of a secret to anyone else in my life but I just found out I have no idea what I'm doing. I can't even go food shopping without second guessing myself and putting canned corn or fucking mozzarella back in its place. Then, I'll go back and find it right where I left it and put it in the cart. I'll make it to the checkout and now force myself to place all the items on the conveyor. I keep everything on the belt but it's HARD. I'll be judged for putting things back among the candy bars and 5 hour energy shots where they don't belong. Cashiers will roll their eyes and middle aged shoppers will shake their heads. All in unison: DISAPPROVAL. 

Again, I never have any idea what I'm doing.

I quit my new job as a Project Manager after a month. I always thought "yeah, I'm doing this and it'll be so great and I'll be able to get another job like that" but not so much. I'm fucking living on Indeed changing my direction every other day. 

Maybe today I'll be a 

Nurse

Dog walker

Communications Associate

Consultant

Banker

Farmer

WHAT THE FUCK?

No idea at all.

All I know is it's embarrassing - not knowing what you want to do or where you want to go or if you should buy that pound of fresh mozzarella for $7.15. Is it worth seven bucks for cheese?

Up until now at 25 years old, I never second-guessed anything because I knew if I did I would disappoint my parents and be one of those people who wasted their degrees. The people your grandparents relay information about in between pasta servings "that Jill, she went to school for 4 years and now wants to be a vegetable farmer, can you believe it? Her POOR parents!"

I didn't want to be Jill, so I lied and pretended everything was okay and marketing is great and so is life. Everything is awesome! Until it wasn't awesome and I cried on the way to work and on the train and hoped no one was looking. I invested in huge sunglasses and Kleenex and tried my best to look normal. I looked at train tracks too long and wondered about them too much.

It'll be one month on Monday since I quit my job. 

One month of 'finding myself'. I didn't really find anything even with all that time. I've been on interviews. I've put on stockings. I've printed resumes and proposals and plans. I've done the research. I answer questions impressing even myself. But no job. I'm upset but also relieved?

I don't really know anything.

"Simply spectacular," someone spoke softly. She sighed, spinning slowly. 

"Stephen," she stated stoically. She stood staring. Silence. She spins. 

"Stay." She stops, stumbling, skin shivering, sniffling. Silence. 

"Say something." 

"Stephen." She stares.