Of course, it is in the head.
I picture you and me, sitting in the quiet of the evening trying to figure out what to do. I like to think me quiet. And intellectual and superior to the ordinary race. I see me looking vauely into the distance. Vague thoughts, disturbing dreams and a lot of space around. I see me looking at the book I am supposed to read. Thinking more than I read. Driving myself into frustration sometimes, thinking things that ought not to be thought. Wondering who I am turning out to be and What it is that ails this mind of mine.
I see you blissfully engrossed in the television. Watching the channel you claim to love. It frustrates me to see that there is such a you that does not care. That thinks not the needless abstract. That dwells not on matters less mundane. But there you are. And here I am.
Who is the happier? The more content? The simpler? The more relaxed?
Who is the one who cries in the nights, softly so as not to be heard? Who tries to keep herself hidden away? Who fights demons unknown?
I do understand. That it is all in my head. All my fault as they all cry for thinking too much.
I do understand that the more I think, the more I will drive myself into distraction. It doesn’t seem right.
I ask you sometimes, to share that peace. And I ask sometimes that you listen to the words I do not say. I ask you to reveal yourself. To let me know what you think.