:)
I want to ask so many questions. Do you ever sit next to someone, wherever it may be, and just have a dire need to question them? Maybe not.
I want to get to know different people, to see how they think, to admire their thoughts, ambitions, discouragements, what they live for. I want to ask why they act a certain way, why they refuse to stop. I want to question their intellect, their mannerisms, and their inspirations. But then I bite my tongue. I tell myself that not everyone likes to open up, not everyone has daydreaming sprees at 1:00 in the morning, and not everyone has the strength to let themselves go, let their mind wander, and not have a care in the world what the other thinks of them, because all that matters is the fact that two (or more) people can share thoughts, and not the fact that the two may look or sound like complete idiots. It doesn’t matter. I hear so many say, “I’m misunderstood…No one understands me”. Well you know what? I believe it’s because we secretly don’t want anyone to know the true us. My problem is I like to fancy myself a writer. I use words, use phrases, and use techniques to mask myself. Everything must be turned into an analogy; everything has to have a deeper meaning; everything has to be in some type of code language of which ultimately I will be the only able to uncover. What effect does that really have? It may get “stuff” out, it may express creativity, and it may provide me countless hours of deep, analytical thoughts. But that’s it. I am willing to share, heck, I am open to my insecurities, but I have little power to let loose and initiate actual conversations.
So…maybe I’ll leave it like this: if anyone can empathize with those so-called “daydreaming sprees”, if anyone is not afraid to ask random intellectual questions, and if anyone has the power to actually initiate those types of deep conversations, I will always be willing to talk.
Happy Summer to you all!
And Happy Graduation Sara!
I want to get to know different people, to see how they think, to admire their thoughts, ambitions, discouragements, what they live for. I want to ask why they act a certain way, why they refuse to stop. I want to question their intellect, their mannerisms, and their inspirations. But then I bite my tongue. I tell myself that not everyone likes to open up, not everyone has daydreaming sprees at 1:00 in the morning, and not everyone has the strength to let themselves go, let their mind wander, and not have a care in the world what the other thinks of them, because all that matters is the fact that two (or more) people can share thoughts, and not the fact that the two may look or sound like complete idiots. It doesn’t matter. I hear so many say, “I’m misunderstood…No one understands me”. Well you know what? I believe it’s because we secretly don’t want anyone to know the true us. My problem is I like to fancy myself a writer. I use words, use phrases, and use techniques to mask myself. Everything must be turned into an analogy; everything has to have a deeper meaning; everything has to be in some type of code language of which ultimately I will be the only able to uncover. What effect does that really have? It may get “stuff” out, it may express creativity, and it may provide me countless hours of deep, analytical thoughts. But that’s it. I am willing to share, heck, I am open to my insecurities, but I have little power to let loose and initiate actual conversations.
So…maybe I’ll leave it like this: if anyone can empathize with those so-called “daydreaming sprees”, if anyone is not afraid to ask random intellectual questions, and if anyone has the power to actually initiate those types of deep conversations, I will always be willing to talk.
Happy Summer to you all!
And Happy Graduation Sara!