A Troubled Mind

She wasn’t sure what touched her so deep to turn her from that peaceful mood she’s been maintaining for quite some time to that gloomy state she’s reached. A rush of thoughts conquered her mind and the questions were too many to even have space to figure out the answers.

He came in to find her standing by the window, staring at the pitch black sky; she was too absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t even hear him calling her name. It was only when he put his hand on her shoulder that she noticed his presence and replied to his concerned “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” with a hesitant tone saying, “Yes. Yes, I am.” And then with a smile she continued, “I guess I’m just too sleepy, I almost slept standing there with my eyes open.” He chuckled softly and suggested they go to bed.

There she was, an hour later, lying in bed with her eyes wide open as she stared at the even darker ceiling, with the thoughts still going through her head, “Who am I? Where am I going? Am I delusional? Is this all just my vivid imagination playing tricks on me? How would we know if we’re awake or just asleep for a very long time? Why do I get those goose bumps every time I think deeply about my life? Am I afraid to reach an answer? Am I in denial? Is it because subconsciously I know of my true self, but whenever my mind dares to go there, all my senses react in disapproval?”

She has been trying to ignore those thoughts lately and focus on only the moment she’s living. And what a beautiful, relieving feeling it was. She had no worries, no regrets, no pain of any kind; she just enjoyed her ‘right now’. Though times like this night, she, unintentionally, drifts away, not to the past nor to the future, but to her existence as a whole.
She tried to interrupt her draining thoughts by getting out of bed. She thought she’d go wash her face, get some water and try to sleep again, but those thoughts did not give up. They kept attacking her mind through every step from her bed to the bathroom, “Am I even real? Couldn’t I be just the creation of someone else’s imagination? How would I know?”

And as she washed her face trying to wash the thoughts away, they still continued, “Am I spiritual? Am I a believer? A dreamer? A thinker? Am I insane? Or am I schizophrenic? Is this me or my reflection? Couldn’t I be trapped on the other side of this mirror? How would I possibly know? We’re both identical.”
Then she closed her eyes while shaking her head in disturbance trying to get back control over her mind, and she mumbled as she turned away from the bathroom mirror and back to the bedroom, “ugh! I really need to stop. This is creepy.”

Then she got this hesitant thought after resting back in bed, turning off the light on the bedside and taking a comfortable position to sleep, “Could those thoughts be right or am I slowly losing my mind?”


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