Maybe I am just a nuisance. A nuisance to all around me. I used to imagine what others thought of me. Snippet images would come to mind: “that intelligent girl with a dreamer’s mind” or perhaps “the one who sings quietly when she’s walking in the halls” or my personal favorite, “the one with the eyes.”
Somehow I can’t help but wonder what goes on in these strangers’ minds. I try to convince myself that some of them have real thoughts, real concerns for other people. It’s weird. I like to look at strangers I pass and wonder who they are and what they like, but at the same time I wonder if they, even for the briefest moment, consider me as anything more than a blurry face they pass in the hallway.
Do they even see me?
This all seems incredibly selfish. I mean, honestly, why do I care if other people think of me as anything, at all?
My life is an enormous paradox. Many hours spent: feet and hands flying, mouth barely being able to shape the words that are pushing themselves from my thoughts. Then there are days much like this one- kind of gloomy and drab, when my thoughts are bizarre and abstract. There are times when I feel I can be totally open with others. At any given moment I can share my true feelings with another human. My life is an open book- I hide nothing.
Then a day like this rolls around and the book slams shut, not even allowing me to truthfully answer a simple “how are you?”. “I’m fine,” becomes my rallying cry as I wait to go home so I can sit alone.
I know I should be grateful that I can see and speak and feel; I’ve got my limbs and my family and my friends. But somehow, there are days where I feel very alone and very empty and very sad. I try to convince myself that I’m fun and happy and one of these days, he’ll come and make me forget that I’ve ever even had a bad day- or even if I do have a bad day, he’s there to make me feel better. Maybe I won’t forget, but he’ll help me deal.
On days like this I try to feel as though everything is okay, but sometimes I can’t convince myself. I mean, everything is OKAY- I’m not going to end my life- it’s just that things are merely okay. I don’t understand it. I guess the problem is that while there’s nothing really wrong, there’s nothing really right.
Annoyance and impatience are the twins that consume my thoughts.
My day is often a series of severe highs and lows. On highs, I dance down the hall, smirking to myself as I softly sing Guster. On the very lows, I have no bright rhythms forcing my feet to dance, no melodies of joy floating in my mind. The only songs I seem to hear are the same four sad bars on endless repeat. Too often, my day begins well and ends sourly or vice versa. I think when I stop talking and start thinking, I become upset and unhappy.
I’d like to buy a t-shirt and Sharpee marker and fill the shirt with all of the random thoughts in my head. Song lyrics and little secret phrases of my own, each somehow connected in my very own oddball way.
Does anyone else have feelings like this? Does anyone really understand what I mean?
I argue with myself constantly. Me and my paradoxical self . . . and no, I’m not schizophrenic. I’m just a girl trying to straighten things out, figure out the real world, life.
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