I close my eyes, center myself… and try to focus on my breathing. But, I can’t hear it over the boiling of every thought in my mind happening at once… Relaxing is anathema as my brain examines that time in first grade that I hid in the park instead of going to school… in the same excruciating detail as the smell of the flowers at my mother’s funeral.
It’s loud inside my head.
Everything is remembered, yet everything is forgotten. The older I get, the bigger the hard drive full of memories, but I can still only use the original RAM. I can see it, hear it, taste it, experience it… but I can’t Feel it. Relief comes with exhaustion, because… y’know
It’s Loud Inside My Head… The Poetry and Prose of A Man Who Feels Too Much. 
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