"She's sad," I blurted under my breath, my gaze flickering anxiously around the room.

I try to focus my line of vision onto something else — anything else — to distract me from the words that were forcing themselves into my head.

Too late.

Rapidly, my gaze whizzes from person to person. I take in all that they have to say, all that is bursting from their trains of thought. My head is spinning, and I feel like I need to sit down. My hand finds its way to something cold. Metal. I grip tight, until a faint ache drifts up my knuckles. I belatedly realise I'm already seated — confined by oceans of people and walls of claustrophobia.

Too many people; too many thoughts. All in one space.

I feel my brain going into overdrive. Fighting, processing, empathizing with these unwelcomed thoughts that aren't even mine. A million little conflicting emotions and words thread and weave, stringing sentences that whirl like wisps, leaving confusion and pain within their wake.

I tremble. My legs move on their own accord, jolting me out from my seat and leaving me bolting for the door. At least a dozen puzzled glances are thrown at me, but I could hardly care anymore.

Anything, to get away from all the emotions, and notions — all too free flowing, all too humane.

I find myself in my dorm room — finally able to breathe. The whispers are gone. The thoughts are gone. I heave a sigh, relishing in the silence.

"How am I feeling now? How am I supposed to feel?" questions run through my already exhausted mind.

I don't know.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

I can't remember.

My fist clenches hard, leaving little crescents on my palm.

It's ironic — a trouble yet a relief.

The only feelings I can't understand are my own.

A/N : Okay, I really don't know what this is this time round. It's vaguely inspired by a summary/description of The Knife of Never Letting Go from a book review. My mind just started...spewing words, and here I am. But honestly though, this time my update is just word vomit.