By Maxine Pollock, TIWP Student

It was another unremarkable afternoon. I was walking up the hill to my house, the sun beating down, my legs struggling to take the next step, pondering the insanity of my own existence. As a kid, I would have anxiety attacks where I became hyper aware of my surroundings and every noise would grow faster and louder until it crescendoed and all I could hear was a deafening roar and my own frantic breathing. My therapist used to say it was because my mind was too powerful and working overtime, though that was likely his way of explaining anxiety to a seven-year-old. However, as I’ve gotten older, these “working overtime” thoughts remain. Driving to volleyball, I’m thinking about the absurdity of evolution and how we ended up with highways and bluetooth and electric cars, or in math class I’m marveling at how so many little things had to occur in order for everyone to be in this classroom at this exact moment. Maybe these thoughts aren’t unique. Maybe the person next to me is thinking the same thing, but neither of us will turn to the other and divulge our inner monologues, so we instead sit at our desks and allow our minds to drift separately. I think it’s easier to attribute most of my thoughts to my mind that never shuts off. 

For every waking hour I spend thinking about the world around me, my emotions are looking inward, analyzing and critiquing the girl who harbors them. Green looks in the mirror and points out every pimple, curve, or hair that is out of place. Sometimes Red takes over and I have to turn away. Walking down a crowded street or talking with a group of people, Purple will take the wheel. He’s been doing a lot of driving recently. Purple commands me to adjust my shirt, fix my hair, stand up straight, smile, be likable, and make it all look natural. When I’m alone in my room again, Blue gains control as I reflect on what went wrong and what I could’ve done better. I try to bring Yellow’s warm glow forward so she can shine her light and make it all go away, but she remains quiet. I shiver. Purple examines the suggested timeline and determines that I am behind. He rubs his sweaty palms together and tells me I’m missing out. I observe what everybody else is doing, listen to tales of their wild escapades, smile, nod, and feel my chest tighten. Why am I different? Why do I think about things like the improbability of existence and bluetooth instead of parties and boys?

I sigh as I reach the top of the hill and sit on the front stairs, closing my eyes. Green, Red, Blue, Purple, and Yellow flash in the space between my eyelids, all fighting for a chance to be in front. I lean back, hands on my temples, and feel myself let go as the sounds around me grow faster and louder and faster and louder.