I don’t think I’m crazy

I don’t think I’m crazy but sometimes it’s easier to explain myself that way. It seems to make people feel more comfortable. But it makes me feel more alone.

I feel things.

Lots of things.

All the time.

These things I feel pull on me like a needy child, and they are just as distracting, but no one can see them. They make me laugh and they make me cry, and it’s hard to keep them quiet in the supermarket.

Sometimes I feel things and sometimes I think things.

An idea or thought that needs to run to completion, to reach it’s conclusion, or a phrase or part of a song I just heard runs in a loop in the background, taking up processing space. Causes lag time in conversation and looks like I’m not listening. But I am listening, I’m just listening to it all. What you are saying, what I am thinking, that thing that I am feeling, and how pretty the birds sound.

(and how different they all sound, and can different species understand each other I wonder, probably not, but isn’t the world amazing and beautiful, and now I should answer that question that you just asked me, except I need to think about it for another second or two so that I can give an accurate answer)

Maybe it’s a defect in executive functioning, or a neurotransmitter problem. Or maybe it’s a superpower. Who can tell?