In My World Today

I live in the space between my ears.  I think a lot of other people do too, but I wouldn’t really know.

It’s a small world after all.  Tiny really.  Bounded in a nutshell; king of infinite space; save for my bad dreams.

In my world, it is really loud.  Sometimes, the cacophony of my world overwhelms.  I find myself paralyzed by noise.

It started when I was little.  I was a sleep-walker.  I had the same terrible dream each time.  I’d wake up with my father placing a cool washcloth on the back of my neck.  The dream isn’t scary when you say it out loud, but when you feel it while you’re in it, it haunts.  A line of men barreling towards you.  All dressed the same: brown flat caps pulled below their eyebrows, black leather jackets, short and stout, wearing ice skates.  Shook me every time.

Since then, the world sometimes just gets too loud and I feel a little crazy.  I need to be alone for a moment or two.

It’s harder now being alone now, for me, because of my phone.  I find myself, when feeling kind of crazy and needing a respite, plugging in and scrolling for a long, long time.  The scrolling and tapping occupies some part of me, which is a small comfort.  However, sometimes I stumble upon an unwelcome idea or thought in the middle of a moment where I need calm.

I’ll be sitting their minding other people’s business, taking a breath from the loudness of life, and I’ll see a post that infuriates.  Someone says something about something that flusters me.  And the loud world I was trying to pacify roars back into full volume.

Right then, I should turn my phone off or drop it in the toilet.  But, I don’t.  I think a lot about the something said.  I research it in my mental archives, on Google.  I tell my friends about it.  I spread the something said.  I make the ‘something said’ into ‘something discussed.’  The volume keeps creeping up.

Eventually, I find myself angrily typing, editing, re-typing, deleting, typing again, some comment to the something said.  I want to turn off the sound by cranking the volume past maximum.

In grace, I find the strength to stop myself.  Delete the comment.  Unfollow the something-sayer.  And then feel bad about all the trouble.

I am a sensitive person.  I feel deeply and quickly.  And while I believe I live between my ears, the spirits of my world emanate from elsewhere.  My mind forever responding to the steady stream of feelings flooding it from somewhere below the neck.

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