State of Mind
State of Mind depression stories
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Autoplay OFF   •   3 months ago
A poem about the endless train of thoughts that night brings.

State of Mind

My mind runs.

My mind runs. I tell it not to, but it seems to be training for a marathon at the moment.

My mind runs. I tell it not to, but it seems to be training for a marathon at the moment. It runs more than a mile a minute.

My mind runs. I tell it not to, but it seems to be training for a marathon at the moment. It runs more than a mile a minute. I could be doing one thing at a time, but its still multitasking.

My mind is constantly playing, like tv static in my head.

My mind is constantly playing, like tv static in my head. The thoughts get cramped up in my tiny skull, That they move down and throughout my body.

My mind is constantly playing, like tv static in my head. The thoughts get cramped up in my tiny skull, That they move down and throughout my body. Doing nothing isn’t nothing.

My mind is constantly playing, like tv static in my head. The thoughts get cramped up in my tiny skull, That they move down and throughout my body. Doing nothing isn’t nothing. It’s like I’m running the marathon with my mind.

My mind is constantly playing, like tv static in my head. The thoughts get cramped up in my tiny skull, That they move down and throughout my body. Doing nothing isn’t nothing. It’s like I’m running the marathon with my mind. With all of that going on, Even waking up is tiring.

But I like when it storms outside.

But I like when it storms outside. I like to sit in my quiet room, listening.

But I like when it storms outside. I like to sit in my quiet room, listening. To the claps of thunder,

But I like when it storms outside. I like to sit in my quiet room, listening. To the claps of thunder, The pounding of the rain,

But I like when it storms outside. I like to sit in my quiet room, listening. To the claps of thunder, The pounding of the rain, and the wind pulling the trees

But I like when it storms outside. I like to sit in my quiet room, listening. To the claps of thunder, The pounding of the rain, and the wind pulling the trees every which way.

But I like when it storms outside. I like to sit in my quiet room, listening. To the claps of thunder, The pounding of the rain, and the wind pulling the trees every which way. The chaos outside is bigger than imaginable.

But I like when it storms outside. I like to sit in my quiet room, listening. To the claps of thunder, The pounding of the rain, and the wind pulling the trees every which way. The chaos outside is bigger than imaginable. Its Mother Nature for god's sake.

So, it makes my own thunderstorm a little less important.

So, it makes my own thunderstorm a little less important. It makes the runner up there stop for a water break.

So, it makes my own thunderstorm a little less important. It makes the runner up there stop for a water break. It lowers the volume of the tv static playing in my mind.

So, it makes my own thunderstorm a little less important. It makes the runner up there stop for a water break. It lowers the volume of the tv static playing in my mind. It opens my body to freely release all the cramped up thoughts.

So, it makes my own thunderstorm a little less important. It makes the runner up there stop for a water break. It lowers the volume of the tv static playing in my mind. It opens my body to freely release all the cramped up thoughts. And I actually feel comfortable.

Eventually, though, it will just be back to me and my thoughts.

Eventually, though, it will just be back to me and my thoughts. That's why the only reason why I dislike thunderstorms, is because they end.

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