My Madagascar Brain

A look into my brain when I am dealing with anxiety

My brain feels like a character from the movie Madagascar, sometimes. It’s enclosed in a box that is just barely big enough for what it contains, and my brain is banging on the sides, hoping to break free. At first, it goes along with the panic and anxiety that surrounds it, not aware of what is happening. Then, my brain knows what I feel, but it keeps it there, because the thoughts have nowhere to go. I’m probably in public, most likely at school, and the thoughts have nowhere to exit, because they cannot go out of my mouth, for there is no one to receive them. Well maybe there are, but I couldn’t figure that out unless I actually did it once. But face-to-face conversations about emotion scare me, so I stuff my headphones in and scare the tears away with Courtney Love’s screams.

After a while, the animals all reach shore, and break free. Only, it’s only a matter of time before something captures my brain again, and it gets put in a little box. A little box where it can’t escape, and has to go through the process of trying to get to shore all over again. I’m like all of my dad’s old records: scratched, bent, and there’s no way to make them brand new. I’m a broken record. At least people write books for broken records like me. At least people write music for broken records like me.