Sakshi Kachh

"I HATE HOW I LOVE MY THOUGHTS"

I hate how I love my thoughts.

They say what I never say.

They ask what I fear to ask.

They make me feel less alone,
then remind me
how alone I am.

I can lose hours
without moving an inch.

I can meet people
who never existed
and miss them anyway.

My mind builds worlds
my hands can never touch.

It turns small things
into endless questions.

It finds meaning
where there may be none.

And sometimes,
I wonder—

do I think too much,
or do I simply notice
too much?

I have learned
to find comfort in my head.

Now I don't know
how to leave it.

My thoughts know me
better than I do.

That should comfort me.

Why does it scare me?

Maybe the hardest prison
is the one
you decorate yourself.

Maybe that's why
I hate how I love my thoughts—

because they hurt me
in a language
I never want to stop hearing.

And maybe, one day,
I'll have to choose:

(a life I can live,
or a life I can only think about.)


They hurt me
in ways
only I understand.

They give me answers
to questions
I was better off not asking.

They turn silence
into a place
I can get lost in.

I can be surrounded
by everyone
and still live
inside my head.

I create people
who never existed,
then miss them
when I remember they aren't real.

I replay moments
that are already over,
as if thinking harder
could change the past.

I imagine futures
that may never come,
then grieve them
before they even begin.

My mind gives me
a thousand doors,
then makes me afraid
to open any of them.

Sometimes I think
my thoughts understand me.

Sometimes I wonder
if they are the reason
I don't understand myself.

And the strangest part?

I know they can destroy my peace.

Still,
I run back to them
when the world gets quiet.

Maybe I don't hate
my thoughts at all.

Maybe I hate
that I need them.

Because somewhere
between thinking
and living,

I forgot
which one
was supposed to be real.

And perhaps that's the cruelest thing
about having a mind you love—

(it can become a home
you never learn
to leave.)

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