Noise

While I wish I had the ability to separate myself from the whirl of activity in my brain, I can't. Trying to wind down only leads to winding rabbit holes of stored memories and worry, trapped in a burrow but not shielded in the least. Causing nervously tapping fingertips, and knuckles being popped like dollar store firecrackers on the Fourth of July. It's as if a frantic movie is playing, overlapped by an old State Farm commercial and the day's droning lesson from school on replay. Darting down darkening tunnels of thoughts, from one to the next, toppling like dominoes.

Things don't have to be rational, they never are, and "stop worrying" is a sorry excuse for helpful advice. But in the evenings tinged with the smell of tulips through open windows and the sweet scent of a flower candle, things slow down. And though they aren't quiet, there are trains passing somewhere in the distance and sirens echoing through the city blocks, the evenings provide a little peace. When everything goes to sleep, my winding, whirling thoughts can settle into a still layer of silt in the cool indigo depths of my frantic brain.