A prose poem about teen negative voices and catastrophic thinking.
Do I seem alone? Well, I'm not. *whispering* "I have my retinue". They're here, to tarnish accomplishments with pointless debate and circular arguments. Inviting trouble, self-distrust and cheerlessness. The posse of negative voices that live in my mind. Do I seem alarmed? Maybe not but I am though. *whispering* "I'm conjuring the worst case scenario". My teen brain is coursing - with cognitive distortion. What's meant to keep me safe is magnifying the vague into landslides of irrational outcomes, ill-defined. This entourage of catastrophic thinking in my mind. So if I seem flaky - i'm sorry - you see I'm really busy fighting the urgent vandals in my mind. If I seem overly emotional it isn't something personal I'm fighting my way thru this noise the whole time.
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