I relate to this. You see, dear reader, I am often trapped within my own thoughts. One minute I am harmlessly entertaining a thought while observing my surroundings, but then the world around me becomes less interesting or less important than the freight train of thoughts that race through my brain. Seamlessly, I fade into my mind to follow this new rabbit trail, forgetting where I am and what I should be doing. Hours pass, or perhaps only seconds, before I realize that I have been staring into the not-so-empty-space of someone’s school lunch…
“Why are you staring at my food?” They ask, a little bewildered and a little concerned.
“I’m not staring at your food,” I say with all the wit and charm my seventh grade mind could muster, “I’m staring past your lunch and into the space on the other side of the world.”
And we would smile, because I have always been a bit spacey.
But now, I don’t like the inside of my head. It’s cramped and foggy in there. Getting stuck inside my head is no longer a whimsical walk in wonderland. It’s a prison, the only thing allowed out is the small voice of a much younger girl, if my voice even works at all. It’s getting overwhelmed because too many questions get asked before I can answer any of them, so the answers jam themselves in my throat and choke me. It’s being too afraid to ask what I really want to know, but desperately wanting things to change. There’s nothing wrong with being quiet, but there is nothing pretty about being trapped inside of your own head.
All my best stories are stuck there. All my biggest ideas and grandest dreams and boldest desires, entombed forever in the swirling sandstorm between my ears.
Some people have minds that are safe to wander inside. I was never allowed such a luxury.