A Story A Day. Story 311 of 365: Cluttered.

Never a moment of silence. Even when she was alone in a room, there was noise. Her mind was always active, always thinking. She had tried yoga and meditation, to no avail, she never understood how was she supposed to leave her mind blank. Even when she was trying not to think, she was thinking about not thinking. Sometimes, when she was doing things she has automatized, her mind raced, jumping from one thought to the other, making her stop and run do another thing because the solution was clear. 

It was exhausting, people never understood it, but her mind wouldn't stop. Not at night, not when she was running, or swimming, not at any time. Sometimes she couldn't focus on conversations because her brain had made a connection and was ignoring what the other person was saying. And it was not only that, sometimes her mind made her feel insecure, whispering that she was a failure, that she didn't deserve it, that she would never make it. There were times she wished she could open her skull, and relieve the pressure. But that was not possible, so, instead of cracking her head open, she wrote. And she wrote until the blood smudged the pages, she wrote until her mind was numb and it couldn't shout anymore, until there was some silence in her life.