What Is It Like? by TheGirlfromChelsea, literature
Literature
What Is It Like?
I question myself all the time
Nothing makes sense.
Facts become myths,
Theories back to hypotheses.
“The sky is blue” is only a rumor to me
Thoughts rush around my head,
Never stopping, never-ending.
It eats at my sanity.
I do my best to let it go,
But it always finds a way to come back.
I hope no one gets panic attacks.
They’ll claw at your brain,
Put things and ideas into your head.
Hands shake, vision blurs,
And no one seems to even care about it.