It's quiet.
It's lonely.
At least, on the outside.
No matter what I do, my mind speaks.
No matter where I am, my thoughts are not quiet.
In the midst of a conversation, I am shouting in my head.

The questions go around in circles forever without an answer.
Always with the "what-if" and "what then".
Always with the "I should have said" or "could have said" or  "should or could have done".
There is only peace in sleep, and then, only sometimes.

My dreams haunt me on waking.
My mind questions them constantly.
Always with "what does this mean".
I just want peace and quiet.

I find peace in the written word.
I create the written word to give voice to my pain, peace, thoughts, dreams.
I hold a conversation with myself  to argue and am told I am crazy.
I hold a conversation with myself to create, and am told I am gifted.

I always question my sanity.
If you can question it, I was told that means you are sane.
I think I prefer the loneliness.
I know that I prefer quiet.