Crowded Mind

Lately, my mind has been crowded with many thoughts. When that happens, thinking clearly becomes a struggle. I begin to spiral into nothingness. Doing things that feel futile. Meaningless. Keeping myself unnecessarily busy.

It's a cycle of quiet, unending misery, driven by the thoughts I have little control over. Thoughts too trivial for the little mental space I have. Too mundane.

And yet they crowd the mind like the clouds would do the monsoon skies. Is my mind to blame? Or my surroundings? My hectic work? Or my utter lack of routine? Whatever the reason, I am exhausted.

I question everything I do—every decision I take. My every choice is wrong. Words spoken are broken. Breaking. Destructive. Words unspoken are indispensable. Obligatory. Until they are within.

Every person is out there to get me. So important I am in my eyes.
Every person is out there to ignore me. So insignificant I am in my eyes.

My mind makes me think too much—yet somehow, not enough. It drives me to act, yet leaves me feeling as though I've done nothing. My mind stuns me. Stings me. Stumps me. And when I finally crumble—like chalk in the rain—under the relentless weight of nothingness, it chides me for being too weak. Mocks me for not thinking clearly.

My crowded mind is one big, unruly bully.