I think I think too much
I think myself into stomach aches and nights spent staring at the ceiling
I think myself into weeklong hysteria where nothing feels quite right, but I'm not sure nothing's wrong
Does the way I think disturb you as it does me? Because I think it should.
I think it should bother you. The kind of thinks that follow me around.
The twisting, turning, churning knot of thoughts I can't control that gets tighter with every breath
My insecurities remind me of roots, branching from the stretch marks in my side and creeping their way up and up into the far corners of my life
I scream at you because the roots have moved up into my throat
They're pressing and pulling until I barely choke out the words
"I hate you!"
But I don't and I wish I could say otherwise but I can only think it
And maybe if I say a prayer, just maybe it might mend me
Prayers are impossible when you never roll out of bed to fall on your knees
Thinking pins me down and tucks me underneath the sheets
Because there is where I can hide from the sun
There is where thoughts will sit and fester with me until I'm numb
And my prayers will take the shape of Prozac
Where the only decision I need to make is grabbing the bottle
It's starting to seem that my decisions are not mine
Sometimes it feels like thoughts are both my reason and my rhyme
I'm so painfully aware of the ways I fall short
So when you remind me of them I can only say
"I know"