Fleeting home

Back on the dirty brown couch,

Where all was soft and sound,

I am still sitting there, calm as clouds.

In the solitude of quiet crowds,

A cool breeze brushing my warm leg,

Still there on that rotten bed.

People flew it by,

Ignoring those loud cries,

Of the wise eyes.

Fretful like the red on the walls,

Still ponder in broken halls,

Falling troop,

Fallen hope,

Drifting away in a fleeting home.

I am still there in my fleeting home. Everyone has now moved on. No path is in sight, yet I walk with numerous thoughts in my mind. Blind folded those eyes of hawks.

Life is overwhelming again, so I am writing again. Maybe I am overthinking again? 

What is overthinking? What is this fleeting feeling that makes my house so dazy and drowned?

Overthinking is running circles in a hamster wheel you were never meant to run, an endless and reletless spun. Try to stop? You’d stumble and fall; keep going? You stay lost. I am drowning in thought, what will they say? Why did I say that? Why did they say that? What are they thinking right now? Are they judging me? Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Why am I like this? So consumed by thoughts that you are unable to escape them. It’s like being held imprisoned by your own thoughts.

This fleeting feeling makes me feel everyone is better than me. Everyone has better dreams than me. I can't stop thinking about how happy they are while I'm not. It’s mocking me how others are moving on in life, and I am still stuck in my mind. Admitting things doesn't fix them. I admit I overthink but can’t fix my thoughts. These thoughts run through my brain like a train without brakes.

I am not a sad, insecure person; it’s just my mind doesn't know how to be quiet. I am quiet, but my mind refuses to be quiet. It’s constantly overflowing with thought with no underflow condition in sight. I feel like I am writing the same lines just with different rhymes. I keep getting caught up in the cycle of feeling overburdened, writing, and then moving on in life as if nothing happened.

Maybe I am better alone. Nobody to judge me, right? But that anxiousness doesn't seem to leave me alone. It's always there to judge me, remind me how I am still there, in that fleeting home. No matter how much I try, I am back there again. This constant travel to that fleeting home is consuming me. It’s exhausting me. This endless loop is scary.

My problems aren't rare.

But they leave me feeling bare.

This overthinking makes my tiny, insignificant problems feel like gigantic mountains, and I am no mountaineer. How do I cross these mountains all on my own? These terrains are isolating and dark, and I don't have a torch. Stuck along these lonely ranges, failing to find my way as the paths rearrange.

Overthinking is the feeling of being jealous of someone you have never met. You see her every day, admiring and scorning her from afar, wondering what her life is like and wishing you could trade places. It's a constant battle between reality and imagination, leaving you feeling lost in a world that isn't yours.

F_ck! This constant fear of being left behind. I guess I'm just envious of others who are better at anything than me. Will I ever be good enough? Is the only thought my mind knows. I try to feel content with myself, but this wicked mind of mine keeps dragging me down; it keeps showing me how I am still lagging behind, always hanging by a thread. My heart pounds like madmen thinking about how I will never be good enough. I will never feel content with myself. I will never be better than her. I don’t hate her. I am just jealous; she is better than me. But she'll never discover this as I wear my mask well; a steady smile and a quiet voice. 

Maybe one day I’ll step out of my fleeting home,

The echoes of noise left to roam those rooms alone.

Maybe- just maybe I don’t have to be her,

Maybe I don’t have to win these battles that concur.

The battles that stir a whirlpool of burdens,

Will fade, and I’ll see—I was never lesser than her.

~Vidushi Anand