If I Stop Thinking, Will I Still Exist? [SSC8, Germany]

I surface inside a thought, like rest was never part of it. My chest is a checklist I forgot how to end. Am I too gentle to be taken serious Or just loud enough to be ignored? (huh) I replay conversations Like unpaid bills on the kitchen floor. Am I too present Or already too much? I read the room Until the room reads me wrong. I count expenses before emotions, Count days before replies, Count reasons why everyone else fits And I’m always the “maybe next time”. I rewind myself until nothing moves. Every question turns inward, Every answer sounds like blame. I don’t doubt the people around me, I doubt the space I take. If I stop thinking Do I disappear? If I stop fixing myself Will someone stay here? I rewind myself until nothing moves, Until even hope feels overdue. Tell me, Am I hard to love, Or just easy to lose? I rewind, rewind, rewind Until I’m smaller than the room. Am I too quiet to be chosen? Too heavy to be held? I scroll past better versions of me And ask what I did to myself. Should I ask you out in February, Or save the courage for rent? (heh) How long do I wait for help Before waiting becomes who I am? I measure my worth in pauses, In how long it takes you to reply. I rewind myself until nothing moves, just to survive. Every thought stacks higher, every breath feels late. I don’t need another reason, my head already makes eight. What if I’m not broken, Just bent from holding everything in? What if this weight isn’t proof That there’s something wrong with my skin? What if I’m allowed to exist Without earning every inch? (ohh) Why do I have to bleed quiet, just to be tolerated?! If I stop thinking Do I disappear? If I stop tearing myself apart Will the ground stay near? I rewind myself until nothing moves, But maybe that’s not the truth. Maybe I don’t Need to be less, Maybe I just Need to be me too. I still rewind myself... But slower now. And for the first time, It doesn’t feel like the end.