There are moments when it’s crowded and you can’t breathe.

Or when it’s crowded and you want to get out and move the hell away.

But there are also moments when it’s all crowded in your head.

When you wish you could shout it.

When you wish you could say it but it won’t let you.

When the best choice is to run away and drown it in a river.

Bury it somewhere deep and hope it’s shut for good.

They say it gets easier while growing older. They say it’s easier to pass it unnoticed, to let it slip through your fingers.

They say you just fall asleep when you feel the need to sleep, that you shouldn’t fear the moments when it’s dark or broad day-light.

They say you wouldn’t feel the need to melt away with this almost-winter mid-light and air. And they have no clue.