Overaware

Every simple little thought provokes a rush of cortisol through the bloodstream and makes eyes dart side to side like a chameleon.

Antidote is needed for this mind to unwind.

This awareness is a gift, but it’ll make you want to unravel each little strand of pink matter that exists within the skull.

He watches me talk from above. He looks over my shoulder taunting and critiquing every miniscule move in my ear. He plants my past pains in my head every chance he gets. He questions if I do, and regrets if I don’t.

He is me.

And I hate him, because I know him so well.

I am overaware of what he does and unable to delete him.

So I distract him. I occupy him. I steal his attention with vices and feed him with something that will suppress him.

But he is part of me, so distracting him only distracts me.

Where is the cure?

Hours alone cure the fear of being near others who may hear what is being whispered in my inner ear. But it only enhances the awareness for the next time I leave the inside of these four walls that keep me chained inside this zone I struggle to escape.

It isn’t as simple as it seems. Others may try to insist it is just a simple fix, but this brain is different and not easy to trick.

It knows too much. There’s too much in this head.

I know I won’t solve it, so I turn on my fan and just go to bed.