I told myself I would write something down, something real. I told myself I would find some release. I jotted down some ideas for fiction that I could hide my true feelings behind but tonight, this just wouldn’t do. And not just tonight, most nights. It’s why I stay away from my own blog, its why I search through the words of every other blogger that I follow. Trying to find my own thoughts and feelings mirrored in someone else’s words.
Sometimes I think I’ve found that one person, the one whose mind is much like my own, but it never turns out to be anything true, anything real. It’s never real.
I am not like anyone else I know, yet I am so much like so many others I know. I am everyone and no one in the faces and lives of everyone I meet. I am here but not there, I’m everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. It’s such a lonely life, a life I only have the desire to fill with words.