Where Is My Mind?

Where is my mind?

I swear

it was here yesterday—

before the overthinking,

before the memories

started rearranging the room,

before every quiet moment

became another place

for my thoughts to wander.

I search for it

in unfinished conversations,

in songs

I should’ve stopped listening to,

in old photographs

that remember

more than I want them to.

Maybe I left it

in a version of my life

I never got to keep.

Maybe it’s still sitting

at a table

where I thought forever

meant forever.

Or maybe

it’s buried beneath

every expectation

I couldn’t live up to,

every mistake

I replay

like changing the ending

is still an option.

Some days

my head feels

like a house

with every light on

and nobody home.

Every room

filled with noise,

every hallway

echoing

with questions

that don’t have answers.

But every now and then—

there’s a moment.

A deep breath.

A quiet sunrise.

A laugh

I didn’t have to force.

And for a second,

everything settles.

The noise steps back.

The weight

loosens its grip.

Maybe my mind

was never lost.

Maybe it was just

buried beneath

everything

I never gave myself

permission

to put down.

So I’ll keep looking.

Not for the person

I used to be—

but for the peace

I’ve been carrying

inside me all along,

waiting

for the noise

to finally make room.