Losing My Mind

I think I’m losing my mind—

not all at once,

not in some dramatic collapse.

Just slowly.

In little ways

that nobody notices

unless they’re looking close.

Forgetting things

I shouldn’t forget.

Overthinking things

that shouldn’t matter.

Turning the same thought over

until it cuts deep enough

to feel real.

My mind doesn’t rest anymore.

It loops.

Repeats.

Builds storms

out of silence.

And I keep trying

to act normal—

keep conversations steady,

keep my face calm,

keep pretending

I’m not exhausted

from fighting myself

all day long.

But it’s getting harder.

The noise follows me.

Into quiet rooms.

Into sleep.

Into moments

that should feel safe

but don’t.

And the worst part is—

I can still tell

something’s wrong.

I still recognize

the distance

between who I used to be

and whoever this version is

staring back at me now.

Maybe I’m not losing my mind.

Maybe I’m just carrying

too much pain

for too long

without putting it down.

But either way—

I’m tired.

Tired of feeling

like my own head

is a place

I can’t escape from.