I really love being at work at 6 on a Sunday evening. Good times.<\/p>\n
I won’t complain about the job that’s got me here right now. It won’t avail me anything and I don’t want to talk about it.<\/p>\n
I want a real conversation with someone. Something authentic. No pretense. No facades. No hiding behind smiles or trite responses or fake laughter, just two people being who they are in each others’ company. As I get older I being to realize just how extraordinarily rare it is to find someone who you truly connect with on a deep level. I don’t think I perceived things the same way when I was younger, perhaps because my personality wasn’t as fully-formed as it is now (though it’s always under development), so it was easier to delude myself into thinking I had a real underlying connection with those I spent time with, when really it was something else, the nature of which I can’t really put my finger on at the moment. Maybe it was all erroneous self-talk. Maybe it was some conversational reflex all too eager to find expression that fell on a spirit eager to respond in kind. Maybe there WAS something real about that. Maybe it doesn’t matter now anyway, since I’m here.<\/p>\n
I think all this tarted-up drivel is just an overwrought way of saying I’m lonely. I’ve found myself repeating, “There’s only one of me,” more than once in the past few days in response to the pressures I’ve been faced with. But it’s not a general loneliness, wanting anyone. And it’s not a more directed longing for a romantic relationship, even. It’s the kind of loneliness that comes over me when I listen to a song I enjoy immensely, the strings build, and I think about how wonderful it would be to listen to it with someone who hears the same strains in the music, who notices that I’ve got different-colored socks on today, all those mannerisms I’m not aware of, and when I run my hands through my hair like this, face down, expressionless, exhaling a bit laboriously, elbows on the table, that I’m feeling something deeply of some nature, among countless other things, most of which I don’t know. I want to be able to be described in terms of details by someone.<\/p>\n
I don’t know. I had another paragraph written, but all the sentences seemed to cancel each other out. I should do what I’m going to do tonight so I can head home and make my to-do list for tomorrow.<\/p>\n