“Spirits” by The Strumbellas caught my ear this morning as I shuffled through my Monday commute, and as I hummed along, I started thinking about the other kind of spirits — the ones in my head. No, not the ghostly kind, but the relentless scripts that run circles up there like they’re auditioning for a Broadway show. These scripts have lines I need to deliver to people, conversations I keep rehearsing in my mind, but never quite get out.

Each one a scene, each one with its own cast, its own tension. Conversations I need to have, moments of truth I’ve been meaning to share, and yet… silence. These scripts won’t let go. They weigh me down like they’re trying to hog the spotlight.

I imagine once I finally get these words out — deliver my lines, let them fly out of my mouth and onto the stage of real life — I’ll be free. Maybe my mind will finally stop replaying them, and I’ll get some peace. But for now, these conversations loop like a never-ending playlist.

Maybe it’s time to stop rehearsing and start speaking. Until then, I’ll keep singing along with The Strumbellas, hoping these spirits — these scripts — finally let me be.