How interesting. I keep checking to see if anyone is interested in what I have to say. I peek inside their eyes for hints of sincereity, and I delve into their sentences trying to find out what they really mean. Is there something I missed in between the lines? Or is it somewhere lost between the words? Have I forgotten that the silence is what makes up the conversation? I think so.
I work so hard at making myself so easily knowable, friendly and loveable. But I have failed to attain any accesibility in it. I put myself on the line, and in doing so, I leave everything that matters in the silence. I want so badly for someone to care what I have to say, and when they finally want me to say it, I don't want them to hear it. No matter what it might be about. Something as mundane as why I think the sky is blue today and it wasn't yesterday, or why I'm so freakin' crazy all the time.
It's interesting, isn't it. I look for pieces of myself, not inside of me, but in those around me. Hoping that they will reflect, not what I want them to, or what I hope I will be today or tomorrow, but what I really am. And when I find it, I see shattered fragments; perceptions that don't make sense when I try to fit them together. It doesn't make a whole picture, but a picture nonetheless. I wonder what that means. How do those words, taken from your mouth, reflected onto me, mean anything at all? Do they? Sometimes I wonder. Why say anything at all. Good movie.