A Quiet Place

Chaos, It’s all colorful chaos.
The thumping in my brain is been getting louder and louder. Walls are getting cracked. People tell me that I should open up, I should speak up but I don’t really feel like it. I don’t think there’s anybody that wants to listen. People don’t like to burden themselves with someone else’s burden.
I get that.
So I play my music loud and start talking. I talk about what’s been hurting, what’s been bothering, what’s been keeping me awake at night.
I talk about my life, my past, my present and the future.
I talk about earth. I talk about seas and mountains. I talk about humans and society. I talk about relations, emotions, feelings, philosophy, humanity.
I talk about cats and dogs and how annoying pigeons are.
I talk about everything and nothing and everything again.
Then I stop.
What do I feel now!?
People say when you speak up you feel lighter and free. You feel liberated.
But I agree to disagree.
I don’t feel liberated or free or lighter.
It all gets heavier and highlighted. And it drags me down.
All the mess gets clearer and more present.
You learn how dark all of it is.
Then I start pushing it under. I push it deeper and deeper. Stuff it, then lock it and seal it.
Then I put puppy eyes and a smile on its face.
I cross my heart and hope for the quiet place.

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