i don't belong in this grey world.

The skies here are turned to a dusty grey color; solid wall of emptiness and lack of change. It causes me to imagine that outside the mist is not at all a large expanse of an entire universe of undiscovered beauty, but that we are indeed trapped inside of an insignificant opaque marble that rolls around and around.

Like when you were a child and marbles could be anything to you – a treasure long ago forgotten, magic to heal wounds or make you fly, a secret. Nobody ever wanted the plain grey one. And to imagine that the one lying untouched and discarded is all of humanity. Where, if you were to only break through the thin layer of clouds, you will find thriving life; complaining, worrying, hurting, working, laughing, crying and feeling.

What I feel right now, is so very small.

But to push past the imaginary and the idealism, I have discovered through my travels down the road, there such things as little worlds like the marble earth. These worlds live inside of people. They are so much bigger on the inside. As total universes, they think big things, and dream big dreams. They love so deeply, feel so ardently, hurt so desperately, and can cause change enough to move entire nations if their passion is as intense as their desire.

I work to achieve that desire – that motivation to make the thoughts in your head the reality. I have the enthusiasm, I have the dreams, I have the ideas and the intelligence, and the capability.

I need to believe in myself. But I oftentimes can’t even muster up enough motivation to do even that.

I am so passionate, so filled with romanticist tendencies. I am trapped as a wanderer; a homeless traveler to drift with only the craving of discovery through the vastness of my mind; to run my fingertips over tall grass in a secret meadow, to swing on rope swings in lush gardens, to get lost in forests of mist and moss.

Sadly, there are no editions of the current dictionary that I could use as reference to explain my confinement any better. I could never begin to perfectly and accurately communicate the way I feel. If only I could open my chest, like lifting a boulder, and show you all of the worms and rotting bits of my insides; that you might nod your head and say, “oh! Now I see” and really truly understand. But I cannot. I am incompetent in this manner.

I bring this up only because it has been on my mind a great deal this week, for several different reasons.

1. I lost someone that I might have been able to love this week because I am not like everyone else – specifically a woman who thinks much, talks more, understands greatly, listens often, and in short – is your typical run of the mill “attractive” female. You know the type that every guy dreams of: The ones that play volleyball and softball that looks sexy with no makeup on, with a thin, tan frame slipped inside shorts and a tank, with their blonde hair pulled up into a perfect messy bun that only took a few seconds. The girl that has is English, or physical therapy, vocal performance, or a Language Major. They are the women that are absolutely everything that I am not. While most of the time, I do not bother to even bat an eye in their general direction, today I have an almost murderous vendetta against them.

2. I was abandoned Sunday by a person whom I claimed friend, for the sole reason that he found me incapable of communicating effectively like everyone else, and that I am too much of a dreamer for his delicate pallet. He said that the way that I conveyed affection was something that he found annoying, not at all an act of kindness or love, or attempted attention; but irritating. That was really painful to listen to. It is always a hit on my fragile self esteem when I am told that one of the few things I pride myself in is actually a part of me that should be buried and forgotten.

3. I’ve had this friend that has danced in and out of my life since high school. The other day, I was texting him, and he said that he might in time come to even like me as a person (because I guess that he hadn’t before) if I was only capable of being more like the girls mentioned above. He didn’t use those exact words, but really, that was the drift of it.

Basically the long and the short of it is, the reason that I don’t get along with many people, as much as I understand them and their needs, it is very one way. I am riding on an entirely different frequency to them, and to be honest, I am not willing to change myself to suit the majority of men, just because they have a craving for a certain flavor of meat.

I am just so tired of other people telling me that I need to be different than who I am because it isn’t good enough for them.

I’m going to go do my taxes.

No I haven’t done them yet.

Don’t judge me.

~C