I'm worried about people. I'm worried about me. I'm worried about people I don't even technically know. What some would call an overactive guilt and worry mechanism, I call simple and heartwarming neurosis.
well, not simple.
I would say "you know what I mean" but nine times out of ten, you just don't.
I've had this tiny communication problem for quite awhile. Mainly, I can't communicate.
Oh, I can write. That's just fine.
I can write out how I feel just great. I make sense, I'm coherent... I sometimes even use proper grammar and punctuation.
I can't write in any way that *I* would find meaningful or interesting, but when it comes to the babble on page, I am your chick.
I explain situations well, I can be expansive and interesting and funny and insightful. I can be revelatory and yet wholey mysterious. Every now and again I can even blow people's minds with prose and lovely links of words and phrases.
Every once in a great great while.
But when it comes to anything that actually really matters to me...
When it comes to the things that hit me at heart... I lose it. I'm incapable.
I am a babbling babe from another land. I'm the definition of a speech impediment. I am bumbling and wrong and silly and just ... in competent.
There are very very few people I've ever known who have even gotten close to being able to decipher my ... well... I feel the need to call it bullshit.
So, when some of them aren't doing so well, I fret.
I wring the skin off my hands and chew my lips off.
Kinda ruins it when they're okay again. the lipless don't smile.
You guys know who you are.
I'm still thinking about you.