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I'm a little freaky recently. It's been a hell of a month. I can't say any of it's been bad, but I certainly didn't expect July to pass the way it did. I've been spending more time than I expected in introspection. I've had the time, and the silence, and the thoughts have a way of working to the surface. I guess you never really reach a point where looking backwards and looking inside lose their value.
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I'm still finding it tough to make friends. I've been trying off and on to connect with people, but the results are unsatisfying, and don't seem to last. Perhaps I don't have the knack. That's an unpleasant thought, but life is all about seizing the unpleasantries firmly with both hands and dealing with them. Hiding from the way things are, the way I am, it doesn't solve anything. It's a comfort to hide from the nasties though, like being snuggled up in a warm blanket. It's just too bad you can't really travel forward if you're all wrapped up.
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Initially I was going to make this entry friends only, but then I did a little thinking. That's no better than hiding myself beneath my favorite blanket of illusions. How can I admit something to myself and keep hiding it others? I've written before about the masks I wear, and that still matters. I'm trying to tear down the walls, one brick at a time. Sure, I've got things I keep buried, we all do. So much of who I am doesn't need to be buried though. It might not be shiny and cheerful. It might be a thunderstorm that blots out the light and brings down the rain. It might be a nightmare with people screaming. It might just be a bee sting or a flat tire though. It's all a matter of keeping it in perspective. Some stuff simply doesn't matter enough to hide, and the hiding buries not only the events, but the strength that was required to live through them, or the fears and weakness that make us all human.
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Hidden under our own personal blankets, we all look the same. There's security in obscurity, in being just a face in the crowd, another number… I keep trying to fight that, and I'd like to think I've made a little progress. People who meet me, and actually stay to talk for longer than a minute, they get the real me. (Or as much of me as I can offer anyone).
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Some people don't like that. It can be a lot like streaking through a mall. So many people simply don't know how to handle it. Most people don't open up that much, except to a loved one or a relative. They go through life hidden from the world, and no one can see their faces.
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I don't want to be one of those people. Watch me bleed in my misery, and don't turn away. Smile as I run through my life, chasing the path I've chosen, with one foot firmly in my mouth.
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One day I'll totally be the person I want to be. I'll probably be unsuitable to take anywhere by then, but hey, what do you expect?
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I'm not changing for you.
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