A war between me, myself, and I
When I close my eyes, I am alone with my thoughts.
I sit in the dark room of my mind, quietly counting down the seconds until I can flee to the safety of other people. I once considered myself an introvert, I now cling to my extraversion like a life preserver. It keeps me buoyant in the water, helps me stay afloat in the dark and deep recesses of my consciousness, helps me stay adrift in channels and rivers of cerebrospinal fluid.
I am alone when I close my eyes, left at my own mercy. I sit in a chair across from a jury of self-doubt, chronic guilt, regret, and sorrow, unable to move, unable to escape the verdict from the judge—I am the judge, I judge myself, always. I do not like to be alone in this courtroom with myself and my painful insecurities. I am my own lawyer, and I am not doing a very good job. I didn't go to law school, after all, and what would a neuroscientist know about the legal system?
Exhaustion and I are old-time friends, though I wish she would leave me alone; I do not think our relationship is very healthy. I cannot escape her, she is always present. I sometimes try and stave her away with coffee, Ritalin, and anxiety, but she lurks and waits for these externally-induced momentary bursts of energy to atrophy away. When I close my eyes, I feel her beside me, I feel her around me, enveloping me in an unwanted embrace.
When I close my eyes, I do not feel well. I am learning to love myself—or at least, I'm trying to figure out how to start. Maybe I don't have the right prerequisites to enroll in this course, but I'm decent at improvisation and I'm a fast learner. I'll use flashcards to study, I'll memorize how to find peace within my imperfections. I'll channel my frustration and fear into essays, I'll find beauty in my insecurities. Perhaps one day I'll enjoy being alone with my thoughts, perhaps one day I'll close my eyes and I won't be in that dark courtroom, but rather a cozy little cottage, sitting and drinking tea with me, myself, and I, and we'll laugh about all the time we spent at war with each other.
I am tired of being at war with myself.
I am tired and exhaustion is calling me to our shared bed, promising sweet dreams and rest, seductive and enticing, but I know that when I slip into bed, I will close my eyes, and I will be alone with my thoughts.