It is cluttered inside,
and lonely, as you sit there,
with all your noise, all your baggage,
and all your incoherent pieces,
and at the end of the day,
it is a choice;
it is your fault,
and,
but,
you can change.

Scattered, broken thoughts,
festering over the years,
rooted in fears, washing over you like tidal waves:
“Are you even trying to be good?”
“You’re wasting everyone’s time.”
“You push others away because you are afraid.”
Your clenching, pounding heart responds,
“There is danger here, and you are not safe."

No. There is no danger. I am safe.
You are exhausted,
with the collateral damage
of harboring irrational thoughts,
and of having hurt so many people,
trying to protect yourself.

So you brazenly dive into the wreckage,
because you have had enough,
and trudge through your muddled self,
again
and again
and again.

You lurch and welter within your swamp,
and it reeks of self-pity
and blind-spots,
and now you are up to your chin
in quicksand, trapped in vat,
conjured
(with your permission)
by your own monstrous thoughts.

Get outside of yourself;
your mess, your swamp,
your polluted soul,
your trembling anxiety,
your maladaptive thinking,
your baggage,
your noise,
your clutter.

Your mind is overwhelming,
and,
but,
it is ever-malleable.