I’ve been staring at this blank page for what feels like an hour…just watching the cursor blink, almost like it’s mocking me…daring me to make it move. Minutes go by and I realize I’ve just been lost in empty thought, looking right through the keyboard in a state of numbness. It’s times like this that I remember sitting in Chemistry class learning about atoms and how they make things into…well, things. That nothing is really real, the keyboard is nothing more than atoms that have come together to make it look like a keyboard. Then my mind drifts further back to my Philosophy class where I learned that nothing is as it seems, logic has no basis in arguments and the world was formed out of the illusions presented by circular arguments…that life as we know it may all be a lie. I remember the notion of there really never being a landing on the moon and how it blew my mind. But when the professor broke down the details, I honestly couldn’t believe anything anymore. I wasn’t alive back then, I did not see it, I was not there…for all I know the Red Hot Chili Peppers got it right when they sang “space may be the final frontier but it’s made in a Hollywood basement.”
It has been a struggle the last few weeks to walk around and appear like a normal, fully functioning adult. I have felt like a liar to the world with every “hi how are you doing, oh me…I’m good, thanks.” That’s one odd thing about human interactions…to ask how someone is doing without really wanting to stop and talk about it. Have you kept track of how many times in one day you ask how someone’s day is going, or are asked about your day? And out of all those times…how many did you actually mean?
I have always tried to live my life with just a few hard and fast rules:
I would like to think those simple rules have kept me out of a lot of trouble, and have made me a better person. Yes, I have broken them all at one point or another but I work hard to use them as daily guides. So you see, when I’m asked how I’m doing…or when people check in on me after the Seattle thing…I answer with what I think you want to hear. Because I know or at least think I know that you really don’t want to sit and hear about my nightmares…my anxiety…my fear. You want me to be good, so that’s what I tell you.
But I’m not.
I will be. In time.
I feel guilty for lying to you…even though I know it’s probably for the best to keep my answer short and easy.
So I guess the purpose of this entry is to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what happened, sorry for not being stronger, sorry for lying and saying I’m good.
