I used to just think
I’d stare at the ceiling for hours
I would day dream of future adventures
Or ponder the big questions
At least what my 12 year old self thought the big questions were

Except now I can’t
I need distractions
Music, texting, staring at a screen full of meaningless content
Anything to keep my mind busy
Busy but not thinking

It’s because I’m scared
My thoughts aren’t fun anymore
My day dreams have become day nightmares
The big questions now loom over me
Dark shadows that follow just a bit too closely behind me
Shadows I can’t outrun and can’t be driven out by light

Maybe I just need more light?
I thought I had enough
People are my lights
Their smiles towards me cast out the darkness
For a little bit at least

I should probably become my own light
People tend to be like faulty lightbulbs anyways,
Unreliable.
But being my own light is hard
So maybe I’ll just submit to the shadows.