Do you ever have those mental conversations in your own head? I know that everyone does, whether they care to admit it or not. Mine happen all the time, but I think it's most memorable when I'm in the shower. I'll just stand under the steaming hot water, begging my body to finally warm up, and occasionally writing my calorie count in soap on the bathroom wall (if it's not a morning shower). Then I start to have a debate with myself about my chaotic rationale. Recently, I've been having my conversation with a "shrink," and it makes me wonder if deep down I really want help sometimes. I stand there, thinking and asking myself questions, like, "Why do I feel like life is pointless? Why do I see the concept of friends as being laughable and for the weak hearted?" But the problem is, I'm asking myself these questions questions that I don't know the answers to and I'm getting nowhere.
Sometimes I wish someone could just sit down and talk to me. I want them to tell me why we're supposed to get up each morning, why we're supposed to have friends, and what the hell this so called "happiness" is that everyone raves about. Sure, I laugh frequently, smile a whole lot (though it's usually forced), and joke around with people. But I do it because I feel like that's what I'm supposed to do, not because I want to. It's all superficial, and at the end of the day, when I return home, I just want the day to be over so another hellish one can begin. And that's why I want a person to explain to me all these things I don't understand. I want them to tell me why we're supposed to enjoy life, why we're supposed to open up to people, and why we're not just meant to be alone.
But I can't do that because doing so would be admitting aloud that maybe my thoughts aren't the right ones. I like to think I'm right. I like to think that believing that being alone makes you strong and that needing the companionship of another makes you weak. It's like I'm watching the world go about in this craze, while I'm the only one who can see through the lies. No one can possibly be so happy, can they? Or is it just because my mind can't wrap around the idea that I flat out reject it? So here I sit, listening to Evanescence, "Missing," feeling like it's the story of my life.
Isn't someone missing me? No, I don't think so. I'm lost...and sometimes...sometimes I wish I could be found.