There are multiple conversations going on inside my brain tonight. The thought process is hyper, and everything is rising to the surface at the same time so it seems chaotic to my senses. 

The one at the forefront is shouting about anxiety, driving irrational fear to the surface. A friend rightly suggested that I might be over thinking and thus making it so. Knowing it doesn't make it stop, and that makes me ask why not? and another stupid conversation begins in the recess of my mind. 

I'm feeling shaky from all the positive changes I've been making, I think. I'm not used to change, I think.

I think, I think, I think... I think that is the problem.

one of the conversations in my brain is about the logic of just stopping. what if I just stopped everything, didn't talk about it, didn't think about it, didn't write about it? not the way I did when I repressed and compartmentalized, but like it's the black sheep that I disown. would that work? should I try and find out? Can I just let go of more than a decade of incestuous abuse and move on as if it never happened, without suffering the reverberations of it like when I repressed it?

another conversation is loss. I am tired of losing people. tired of losing people to death, to illness, to indifference, to intolerance, to the many horrible bad things in life that consume them. I have had my fill of loss. I know I should just recede from people to reduce the chances of loss but I do not have it in me to do so, not even for my own well being. I am drawn to humanity like a moth to a flame. without the distinction of choice, I remain at the mercy of withdrawal and absence. I know it all comes down to having loss my family to their alcoholism and pedophilia tendency and then having loss my innocence to their betrayal of my soul that makes me jaded, but what makes me go against that jaded instinct to bond with humans still? it is so dangerously risky, isn't it?

another conversation is about the fear. fear of the things I really know alot about. fear of what happens in the dark of night. fear ofl learning about the things i know nothing about. fear of the fear. fear of my reaction to the fear. fear that the fear will make me angry. and on and on and on

way too many conversations tonight. what is it trying to distract me from? What doesn't my brain, the brain that always tries to shelter me anyway it has to, want to protect me from tonight? My brain that took me into my own imaginary woodland to escape being beneath my uncle, my brain that repressed all the bad memories for decades, my brain that after remembering everything bad still compartmentalized it so that I go just ignore it and go on as if nothing had happened for even more years, that brain, that brain that surrenders me to nothing, what is it trying to shelter me from now?

should that frighten me? it doesn't. should I be afraid of what doesn't scare me? 

my self preservation is pure instinctual and ever vigilant. my brain doesn't really give me a choice. 

I will survive. like it or not.