I think I am at my most unadulterated at night.

My anxieties, my fears

come crawling out of the crevices of my mind

like Chuthulu from the watery depths.

I lie awake for hours

double checking

triple checking

that my assignments are turned in,

that I am all registered for college,

that I have to go to work tomorrow.

Work. Oh.

My stomach flips at the thought.

Another mistake,

Another holler.

I toss and turn trying to get comfortable.

I result to taking comfort in my phone

and basking in the pale light.

I pour every little thought out to my friends

because they are too toxic to boil in my mind.

But it's 1:30

and we have school tomorrow.

They have an anatomy test tomorrow.

I have a theatre performance.

I hear my mom snore in the other room.

At least someone is getting rest around here.

I think I am at my most unadulterated during the day.

My confidence, my goals

shine outward like the morning sun as I make my commute into work.

I fall asleep during 4th hour.

Twice that hour

Thrice that hour.

All my assignments are turned in.

I'm all set for college.

Rehearsal, a nap, then work tonight.

Oh, work.

My pursed lips soften at the thought.

Another day,

Another dollar.

I sit back up, trying to pay attention.

I result to getting distracted by my phone.

Turning it on accidentally sets off Siri's tiny tone, and the class snickers.

I tell every detail of the day to my friends at lunch.

They complain about the anatomy quiz.

I cringe over the lackluster theatre performance.

The roar of the lunchroom is deafening as we sit, practically soaked in vinegar.

At least someone is having a great time around here.

I am not quite sure who I am.

Because whenever I evaluate myself,

I always believe that the person I am

at that moment in time

is the person I am regularly.

Often times I feel like who I really am

doesn't broadcast farther than the outer layers of my psyche.

When I speak, I feel like a historian,

attempting to translate a poem from another language;

I'm getting the gist out, but not the emotion captured in the original text.

It takes me a while to find the words that need to be said.

So please excuse our mess,

it's hard to keep clean when you're excavating thoughts out of an unsound mind.