Thoughts on a sleepless night

It's 3 in the morning. I wish I had a switch to turn off my thoughts quarrelling at each other. They are restless. What do they want? Why aren't they settling in? Thoughts over thoughts and questions over questions. I am the reason for it. Every time something happens, I smile, nod, and sweep it under the carpet. So the carpet cannot hold the pain anymore. Like the water on a hot summer day, the pain evaporates into thoughts.

I know they do not have space in there. They are restless, overpowering each other. I cannot blame them; how could I? How much can my thoughts hold? Even too much sweetness is poison, darling. I can feel them. A Thought from yesterday is furious on a Thought from my childhood. It says if you weren't so naive, you would not have shivered when a stranger passed you. You wouldn't have always been so defensive, making me furious, and you should have shouted at him when he touched you. Why didn't you tell your mom? Instead, you whimpered, hid under the blanket, saw blood dripping, and did nothing.

Another Thought lamented, "Alas, what can a 4-year-old do!"