Here Is My Witness

Here

I am here,

in the hum of the moment,

where thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind,

where nothing lands for long

and yet everything leaves a mark.

The world speaks in overlapping frequencies,

and I am tuned to all of them at once.

Here, the air vibrates.

Ideas arrive unannounced,

collide, dissolve, return wearing different names.

I don’t chase them—

they circle me,

asking to be seen,

asking to be understood

before they disappear again.

Here is not still.

It is movement layered on movement,

noise braided with meaning.

It is the dance of focus and forgetting,

of noticing everything

and choosing, again and again,

what deserves my attention.

A kaleidoscope of too much

and not enough,

abundance masquerading as overwhelm.

Here is where time behaves strangely.

Minutes stretch into lifetimes,

then collapse without warning.

Past and future brush against my shoulders

like strangers in a crowded room.

I feel what has been,

anticipate what might be,

and hold the present anyway—

fragile, electric, alive.

Here, the edges blur.

Between me and the world.

Between observer and participant.

Between calm and the storm

that rumbles just beneath my skin,

never fully breaking,

never fully quiet.

I stand at the threshold,

fluent in transitions,

more comfortable in the in-between

than in certainty.

I am here

with a thousand threads pulling at my mind—

questions without neat answers,

patterns half-revealed,

connections others don’t ask for

but I cannot unsee.

This is not distraction;

it is depth without a filter.

It is the cost of perception

and the privilege of it, too.

And still, I am grounded.

Rooted in the chaos,

feet planted in shifting ground.

I have learned how to anchor myself

without shrinking,

how to remain intact

while everything moves.

I make maps out of turbulence,

constellations out of fragments,

finding order where others see tangles

and beauty where others look away.

Here is where sensitivity becomes strength.

Where feeling deeply sharpens thought

instead of dulling it.

Where intuition is not a whisper

but a steady current,

pulling me toward truth

even when it is inconvenient,

even when it costs me comfort.

Here, I carry contradiction

without demanding resolution.

I am both soft and unyielding,

both tired and relentlessly awake.

I question systems, stories, assumptions—

not to dismantle for sport,

but to understand what holds

and what harms.

I am loyal to meaning,

even when meaning refuses to be simple.

Here is my truth:

a state of being, not a destination.

Alive with tension,

alive with awareness,

alive with the quiet courage

of staying present

in a world that rewards numbness.

I am here—

not to escape the noise,

but to listen closely,

to translate the signal hidden inside it,

and to remain,

fiercely, fully,

me.

Author’s Note

This poem is about living with ADHD—not as a deficit, but as a distinct way of experiencing the world. Here captures the constant flow of thoughts, the rapid-fire connections, and the intensity of attention that often gets misunderstood. What might look like distraction is actually a heightened awareness, a mind noticing patterns, nuance, and possibilities simultaneously. ADHD is not a flaw; it is a cognitive style that comes with both challenge and power. This poem celebrates that complexity, showing that living with ADHD can be a form of creativity, perception, and insight—fully human, fully alive, and unapologetically present.

Thanks for reading.