inside my head

the world spins at a speed uncatchable. mostly it's words, scrolling down forever like a badly designed website. things to do, people to call, books to read, tests to take, projects to complete, dinner, laundry, dishes. clean clothes are overated. really. who pays attention to the mud splattered on the cuffs of your jeans, besides you. who noticed the lack of eyeliner this morning. who wonders how often you work out. nobody but you. so inside my head spins thoughts of myself, churning into sour stress over nothing important. when saturday comes, i dump these thoughts before i hit airline security and sleep clearly in an uncomfortable chair with an oversized man hogging the armrest and snoring, peacefully.