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12:34 PM - Thursday, Aug. 19, 2004
I had to add this..... a Catch-22
Just made my way to work, and while I was on the highway, there was a green mini-van wrecked on the side between K-96 and Meridian. I called 911. I don't know if anyone was hurt. It was raining so hard, I couldn't even tell if there was somebody in the vehicle. Doesn't hurt to mention it, though.

People always say to me, "you're so popular. You have so many friends. You're a people person." etc. etc. etc. I find that odd given the fact that I'm a complete social blunder offline. I can't understand half of these people's humor/jokes. I don't understand what's so fun or funny about making fun of people.

I understand people. I can figure out why they are the way they are. I can analyze their personalities and have some sort of apathy for them. But I don't understand why I can't find their jokes funny, can't joke back with them, or can't be joked with. Am I intimidating like my father? Do I have a certain look I give people without meaning too when I think they're saying something stupid? Is my chuckle not loud enough? Am I so far removed from Kansas society that I can only socialize with those beyond Kansas borders?

What is wrong with me? I don't think I'm any better than anyone else. I don't think I'm more intelligent. I don't put myself up on a pedestal... so why do I feel like they think that I think I am on one? Or that they seem really bitter towards me for some reason. Or that they have ill thoughts about me when they don't even know who in the world I really am.

Do they know that I write poetry? No. Do they know that I love the cartoon network, that I'd kill for a jello smoothie, that I love to write and doodle and play logic games? They know none of this. They don't know I suffer from depression, that I have a sexually opressive and abusive past, and that I spend most of my time away from work taking care of my grandparents, or babysitting my niece and nephew. They don't know. They don't want to know. I don't want them to know. I hate that they prejudge me, but then I don't want to let them in to know otherwise. It's a catch-22.

I have nothing in common with any of them. I don't go to school anymore. I'm not into relationships or having a man on my arm in order to be happy. I am not into checking out men and oggling their sex appeal. I'm not in a relationship. I'm not married. I don't have children. I don't drink anymore. I don't smoke. I don't chew tobacco. I don't like to gossip. I don't like to make fun of anyone for anything because I wouldn't want to be made fun of for my faults. I prefer to share myself by way of writing, and be the listener when in a conversation. I don't like to open up to people I know physically. I prefer to have a few good friends rather than a lot of acquintances.

You know what my problem is? I think there's a problem when there isn't. I'm just surrounded by people that aren't like me. I've always been surrounded by people who are different. Grade school, junior high, high school... even in college. I never did fit in. I never did belong. I was popular because I drank. I was popular because I put out. I was popular because I acted like I didn't give a shit and that appealed to people for some reason. I can't relate to the people here because I have nothing I want to share with them. I don't want to spend any break time sitting there talking about things I've been through... things I've let go of. They don't need to know about my personal life.

I hear them talking about their lives. I hear them talking about their dead beat boyfriends, their family problems, their issues with money. I hear them badmouthing the people who call in. I hear them making fun of people they've dealt with. I hear them talking about perfume, make-up, clothes... all the things I appreciate but don't love. I hear them discuss how their friend committed suicide in high school, or how they lost so and so in a car accident. I hear them talk about death as if seeking some form of sympathy from the listening ear.

And I think to myself: "what a wonderful world..." just kidding. I think to myself, all these experiences we go through... aren't so unique. Oh, I don't feel like getting deep. Especially about things like religion, death, life, and politics. I'm so worn out over all this philosophical banter. It's always the same shit repeated over and over again using different words, anyhow. And it's always done in some way to search some kind of meaning from what we try so hard to understand... when deep down we understand it well enough to not have to constantly contemplate over it.

I need a vacation from my mind.

On the plus side, my dad's friend John has been sending me postcards from Utah where he's been visiting for the summer. Out of the blue and at random. I find that comforting for some reason that somebody out there has met me in person and thought enough about me to be this kind.

I need to find me a rabbit hole and hide away for awhile. If only I could turn off my mind for a bit. If only I could escape myself for a long long time. If only I could find somebody who can make me forget, who can help me lose myself for just a few minutes or hours every day. Maybe then life would be worth living.

 

 

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