The Blinds

When I leave the blinds open at night, I swear my thoughts slip out through the slats.

Not memories. The heavy ones. The ones I never say aloud. They drift into the dark like warm breath on cold glass.

But something else slips in.
Other people’s thoughts.
Strangers passing by.

Their fears. Their whispers. Their nightmares.

They gather in the corners, waiting for me to fall asleep so they can crawl into my mind and make themselves at home.

That’s why I close the blinds tight.

Not to keep the world out.
But to keep myself in.

And because if even one of their thoughts gets in again…
I know I won’t wake up the same.