Thursday, May 27, 2010

Finding Forty, Day 4: Bravado

I have no real focus tonight.   I wish I had something wonderful to write about and I probably do, but I don't feel up to it.   My personal life is ripe with material, overflowing with emotions and fears and worries and hopes.   And yet, I am not quite ready to peel back the layers, exposing how frail and scared I actually am. 

Or am I?

Bravado has become my cloak.  I grab it's ragged, tattered seams and thrust them around me, walking onward, all the while oblivious to the unraveling behind me.   If I hold my chin just so, let my mouth raise to a half smile and keep moving, I feel  mostly safe.

Except for when I'm not.  Or can't.  Or just don't feel up to it.

Staying busy is my saving grace.     It seems a damn shame that during the one time in my life when I need a passionate hobby the most, I find myself complete devoid of anything that remotely interests me. 

Why does everything have to be so hard?   I realize that the people I love have their health, as do I, and for that I am eternally grateful.   But on a more immediate level, why does everything feel so complicated?  

Human beings confuse me.  Why do we do the things we do?  What motivates us?   What sustains us and feeds our soul?   Or does anyone else besides me even give a fuck about their soul being nurtured?  

Sometimes I feel like an alien, walking through life in a human's body, but processing all of these thoughts and emotions that no one else seems to understand.   Am I that abnormal?  That weird?  That crazy?  

And how can what feels SO right to me, seem so diabolically opposed to what others think best or what others hope for and need in their life?

How did I get to be the oddball?   I mean, I've always felt different, never quite fitting in, saying or doing the right thing, looking like I was supposed to.   And I've tried to embrace that my whole life, but more and more, I just feel so lost and misunderstood.

I don't feel special.   I just feel confused and defeated.

But my cloak is velvet and soft and comfortable.  I'll wrap it around me and carry on, straggling threads and all.

With my chin up,


  1. All I can say is I'm here. Period.

    Your words are almost mirror images of my own. That's all I can muster up.

    Wrap yourself up in your cloak, baby, then pull out your daggers and open your front door.

  2. If you are abnormal, weird and crazy, then so am I, as I am very much in the same place in my life right now. There are things about my life that I am greatful for. Yet, I am not passionate about any of it. I am the white dandelion puff, waiting to be carried away by the wind. Except there is no wind. So I am immobile, stuck in this bland existance.

  3. It's strange to me that everything you type here nearly describes me. At the same time that it's nice and comforting to hear/read someone else going through or has gone through the same, it's sad in the sense that I am perplexed about the same. Carry on...