#sensoryoverload
it feels tight and constricting
i cant stop crying
tears are rolling down my face
mum and sister are asking if im okay
my clothes are feeling wonky
i need them off my body
i cant move because
every single time
i feel like im gonna puke
its sensory overload
i finally stand up
i walk to my room
i take off my clothes
i put on something new
everythings fine now
i stopped crying
but my mum is screaming at me
saying im lying
just trying to get attention
Feb 25
Feb 25, 2026 at 12:21 PM UTC
// Internal System Log: CORRUPTED
// Status: [St@bil!ty = ]
// Emotional Containment Protocol: UNSUCCESSFUL
⸻
BEGIN REPORT:
Input()Input()Input()Input()Input()Input()Input—
[[TooMu.ch//Prcssing]]
[[Intake>Breathe>Breathe>STOP]]
[[Overload threshold breached: 147%]]
[[SILENCE REQUESTED—but no mute function exists.]]
:: Ceiling fan = bl@des.
:: Light = thorns behind the eyes.
:: Voice (x3) = collision.
Smell-of-metal
Sound-of-thought
Feel-of-cloth
= same weight
!!!
Every thread = a scream.
Every hum = a map of somewhere I cannot go.
I f e e l t o o m u c h
B@ckgr()und noise reclassified: Hostile
Texture = LANGUAGE
Light = WEAPON
Breath = HEAVY::LOUD::VISIBLE
⸻
MEMORY ATTEMPT: BLOCKED
Recall = corrupted.
Syntax folding in on self.
:: error_rpt ::
“it’s_too_loud”
“it’s_too_now”
“i_was_built_wrong”
[[Containment sequence failed.]]
[[Masking loop frozen mid-loop.]]
:: Body = too connected
:: Skin = antenna
:: Thoughts = UNIVERSE EXPERIENCING ITSELF
Request:
—s h u t d o w n—
—p a u s e—
—decre@se awareness—
ERROR. No exits.
⸻
Voice modulation: SILENCED
Eye contact: NO ACCESS
Tongue: SYSTEM JAMMED
Hands: mimic comfort sequence [looping…looping…]
Body: offline
Presence: simulated
Pain: everywhere
Witness: no one
⸻
:: Let them call this dramatic
:: Let them call this a phase
:: Let them call this poetry
:: They are not inside this moment.
—
! s o m u c h i n h e r e
…still…
i do not want to leave.
i just want it all
to
slow
d o w
n
⸻
[TRANSMISSION: TERMINATED]
Final ping: [[I_am_still_here]]
Recovery window: unknown
System will reboot once internal volume falls below threat levels.
Aug 1, 2025
Aug 1, 2025 at 8:30 PM UTC
It’s hard to make sense of the noise.
There are just some places
That makes it hard to exist, to breathe.
And the world feels too close.
I’m haunted by the thought
Of forgetting everyone’s smile.
Some moments just feel blurred,
Especially when it all feels too much.
But between the chaos,
There are glimpses of something softer.
A smile,
a second that could slip away,
But not quite.
A moment
Trying to forge itself in my head,
In a hope to be remembered.
Sep 16, 2025
Sep 16, 2025 at 9:21 PM UTC
Lately I’ve felt as though every little sound and feeling and smell and sight is grating at my nerves and chipping away at my sanity.
My clothes feel constricting and too loose and scratchy and smooth and not right
My ears are full of constant ticking and ringing and noise
My skin wraps my frame too tightly and I want to rip it apart and off of me but then I’d be cold and miserable
It’s all too much and everything is loud and jarring and I feel frenzied and too stuck and not stuck enough and all I want to do is jump in front of a van because then everything would
Just
Be
Quiet.
Blessed and sought-after and evasively, quiet.
Jun 26, 2022
Jun 26, 2022 at 4:42 PM UTC
I want to take apart my skin
when the sun is too bright
and the world is too full
of people who will never know me.
I want to open the rivers
inside my wrists and empty them;
to pour myself away
the way I pour whisky
into my empty stomach,
and my hypothermic limbs
into stranger's beds.
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 10:01 PM UTC
The world is made of crisp clear lines.
It’s nice when things are clear and clean, but
Sometimes the lights brighten and the lines grow sharp.
Sharp enough to cut.
When the world is made of sharp and bright lines,
Things start to hurt.
Everything is too loud.
It’s not crisp or clear because everyone is talking
And it hurts.
My head feels fuzzy and the lights are still too bright.
When everything is sharp and fuzzy and loud and bad,
I take off my glasses.
It doesn’t stop the lights from glaring,
Or the people from talking,
But it makes the lines a bit less sharp.
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 7:45 PM UTC
living makes me want to die
while the sound of the river keeps playing,
and my privilege will soon drown it out
as the river trickles down my ears,
but i keep hearing the same song.
I dance in the rain
people start to believe my lies
and I splash in a puddle.
i laugh with grief
there is no me anywhere, anymore
My clothes are soaked with protection.
I run and run and scream and play,
Waist deep in my little river,
it's thick
must be the polution
no one hears my calls or wishes.
I let myself float care free.
I hold my breath everyday
I feel it slosh in my brain
I won't wake up from this dream
I'm sinking
drip
drip
I hear the river stream
as it moves past my body
as it moves through my body
it goes on
it goes on
it goes on
what goes on when i can't?
drop
drop
silence.
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 12:32 AM UTC
Spring comes
as grasses leap forth
and emerald hues are added to the landscape,
with wildflowers peeking up from the
dewy roadside.
The world smells
fresh like worms and earth,
while birds drift down to finish last year’s
seeds.
Yellow rain boots hop
out of shelves and into the puddles,
while mud gathers and plays in the road,
gurgling with mirth at passers by.
The badminton net is resurrected,
regally looming over the lawn,
as the swings squeak joyfully in the breeze.
The fireplace gives a sooty yawn
and falls to sleep.
And in the kitchen, fiddleheads unfurl upon
a hot pan
as the old and sour scent of the earth
settles upon our plates,
spring steps lightly
onto the world.
~Yuka Oiwa
May 6, 2008
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 7:38 PM UTC