Oh how lovely it is to find my thoughts in order
Neat. Tidy. A fence around their border.
Not scattered. Not shattered.
They used to be so tattered.
Blowing around me like a tornado.
Me, a rag-doll in the centre
Bruised and tender.
Who was I back then?
I couldn’t tell you.
Each piece of my brain was spinning in different directions.
I couldn’t focus on any section.
I was capable of everything. Of nothing.
I felt… I felt… small.
I felt it all.
Too much. Much too much.
Oh how nice it is to be so contained.
Knowing exactly how I feel.
Keeping it ‘real’.
I am at last restoring.
Then why do I feel so boring?