A look into my mind (After writing this i think a better name would be A Series of Existential Crises)

time for a brain dump because this might actually be a good exercise. I am going to try to explain some thoughts i have about feelings: the way it feels to exist as me, if that makes sense.

i.

I am slightly tired right now. I can tell because the weight of my thoughts is pressing down on the back of my head, thin and smooth. it's not the worst feeling in the world. The worst is when I'm walking through the hallways at the school building, too fast for my brain to process. My thoughts sway back and forth, the weight sloshing from the front of my skull to the back, and it makes me dizzy and nauseous. When the thoughts are heavy, it strains. my teeth are told to clench and the tension is released in violent movement. my mind was once again too small to contain it.

ii.

As previously stated, I am tired. the thoughts are more abstract, unlike the Times New Roman billboard thoughts of daytime. Now the words take effort. That isn't to say that the billboard is easy...sometimes the billboard words are passed too quickly, and I didn't have time to read the words or process them. They occasionally get mixed up somewhere on the way to reality. My mind stumbles a lot. Anyway, back to tiredness. As you can see, I'm rather rambly. my thoughts are a spiderweb of abstract, like a swirling sky in which I'm trying to pick out certain shapes before they shift to something else. I'm thinking, of course, but I'm not seeing. Once again, no billboards.

iii.

Have you ever noticed that everything is less blurry if you choose not to look at it? I'm not explaining myself well. Sometimes, when I think about something that is too much to think about, I get overwhelmed. Small things become too much. The thoughts start to slosh and lose form. Thinking too hard about the texture of my breaded, school lunch chicken, and all of the places it's been. The fact that once, that was a living, breathing chicken with possible years of life experience, confined to a cage. It lived its whole life for this moment, undesirably and unknowingly, and I end it just like that. But there were people who made the bread that breaded my chicken, and they have stories too. I am part of all of these stories, and none of us know it. I have been sidetracked again. Anyway, then the breading and the strings of once-living chicken becomes too much, and I'm not hungry anymore. Everything becomes sharp and blurry and loud and muffled at the same time. If I choose not to think about the chicken, everything is less blurry. But does that make me a liar to ignore the truth?

iv.

Why am I overly concerned about the way people think? I want to see the way things are filed in their heads. I can't even see how things are filed in my own head, which is why I'm writing this. It's easier to think when it's visualized. it's also easier to think when it's written down. My mind is a mess of contradictions. My thoughts don't exist until on paper...not in words at least. its feelings. happy and sad but they contradict.

How do we feel so many feelings? I classify feelings with words, but how do we know what the words are? I don't know what it feels like to have a crush on someone. I think I know what it feels like, but is that really what it feels like? Does love feel the same way to everyone? Do I REALLY love anyone? The concept of the fact that we are all using words that describe feelings when no one else can feel what they feel. Like if I say I feel Happy, how do you know what happy feels like? Have you felt happy before? Well, is your way of feeling happy my way of feeling happy?

I'm trying to validate my emotions this way. I feel sad sometimes, but it is not as sad as others feel. It's MY sad though, and I'm the only one who's ever going to feel that specific sad. Of course, it's likely everyone feels emotions the same way, but I'm the only one who is going to feel my emotions, and they are real. I am real.

v.

I have trained myself. Small me has taught bigger me how to deal with emotions. That's kind of scary to me. Small me is very different from bigger me, and I feel small me didn't know what she was doing. and yet, small me has a huge amount of control over what bigger me does. Humans are not one thing. Humans can change, but they can't take away from what they were. and yet still, every new decision makes them a new person. I can be a new person. At this point I'm only thinking aloud, thoughts I've thought before, but not internalized. How many times does it take to think something before it's internalized?

vi.

The thoughts are even hazier, and I can see that I have not successfully visualized my own mind. Even so, the words I write help me see myself clearer. Will I ever see who I truly am? I hope so.