My Thoughts are my Issues

I sit on the floor, my old computer that was a gift to me from my high school is resting on my legs, as they are criss crossed, the bottom foot closet to the floor is starting to hurt, feeling numb, going to sleep. Thoughts feel my head over the things I've said, the events that happened, anger that might not even be real from my boyfriend lingers in the air; I tend to over think so much. Clouds forming around my head; the negativity, the positivity, self-doubt, self-love, they hang around me like I have multiple personalities. They try getting in but they can't, they're not powerful enough. My fingers rests at the keys, wanting to type so badly but can't, they can't flow if they have nothing to type to, no thought in mind that is worth typing about. Air fills and leaves my lungs, my bad posture kicks in, money issues start to take over as I remember that I should've taken the extra shift an hour ago.

My boyfriend comes in my mind, leaving me to wonder how the rush is at the theater, remembering the sad stressed look on his face as he left the passengers seat, saying goodbye to my sister sitting next to me, than at me, ending it with "I love you." Birds of Prey just came out, I didn't take the shift because I didn't want to deal with rude people, saying the same old thing everyday, taking their order, telling them what auditorium they are gonna be in and move on to the next person in line; I wonder what person called out tonight that made the manager want to call me in. But mostly of insecurities; I wasn't ready for work, my bare face showing, I didn't want people seeing that.

Spotify is playing in the background, my mind notices the sound but pays no attention to it, an old playlist I put on for some relaxation, but all it brings me is a music project I've started months ago and how I will not finish it for another few months because I have nobody who is on my ass, wanting me to finish it and put it out. I have no one to tell me to rush it, take my time on it but get done with it quickly, how it badly needs to go out. All the other projects I've started but haven't gotten around to finish: music, blankets, jewelry, books; sometimes I think that I'll never get to finish them in my lifetime because of how lazy and not self-driven enough. Haven't filmed in a few weeks, knowing that I won't film about my boyfriend, too nervous for that and I like to be alone while I'm talking to a camera about whatever I want. Editing problems on my computer is a small issue, can't find a cheap good one without my computer saying it won't support it.

Knowing I'm on the second floor alone of this building is nice yet scary; the neighbor might sigh when she walks up the loud creaky stairs because I locked the bottom door. I'm nervous of these thin walls that can hear everything for you; the music playing might be too loud for her unless she turns on her TV; or she might just leave again in her car that I might not ever get. Car insurance might be too much for me and my boo because we're new drivers. Money being wasted on Lyfts just to go to work to make more money. Money is never really yours, is also getting to you, leaving you and moving on to someone else; An endless cycle. My mother's text asking about me and him, wondering if we're okay, her asking me about my info and if it could be given to my sister who choked me when the altercation arose. Familiar scents brings me back to when my father yelled at me, taking pieces of me and leaving them in the dirt. It all makes me sad, too damn sad; sadness raises above me and won't seem to leave unless I'm fulfilled of a need, but the need never seems to come, so I'm stuck in an endless void that consumes my life and might be the end of me and I don't want it to be. Sadness will be the worst way to die.

I sit on the floor, my computer laying on my legs which are now asleep. Thoughts fill my head about the present and how moments ago my conclusion about the neighbor was right, how she sighed when she came up the stairs, the sounds of plastic bags in her hands. I tend to over think too much. Clouds that formed around my head are gone; a weight that was on my shoulders that feed me depression vanished, hunger fills me. My fingers are now moving at a speed that even teachers of mine when I was younger were impressed, seeing the words fill up the page, leaving me with a satisfaction that makes a piece of the sadness go away. Air fills and leaves my lungs, my body feeling alive again as I got everything off my chest; may or may not even publish this, but if I do, this is an example of how one's thoughts can easily go to another thought in seconds. And these were just my mine.