When I'm stuck in my head I write

I am the waves. Rocking back and forth crashing into myself, going both forward and backward, stretched thin.

I am a bobber. Up and down, never fulling breaking the surface. I can feel anger and sadness thrashing around like the unrest of the water, spitting and spraying. Other people swim through me, slightly inconvenienced, if at all, by my turmoil.

Will the wind slow? My surface still?

How can I move so violently and not progress?

Nevertheless, I keep swirling in circles reflecting the sun's rays. Still... I am cold and dark. The light caresses my skin but brings no warmth.

How can something so free feel so trapped? I am unmoored but encapsulated.

I am restlessly exhausted.

I am PUNCHES thrown into a void, trying to strangle air that slips through my fingers.

Nothing steadies me.

Nothing fills me.

Though, I feel so full I could burst...