sometimes I feel like my heart is too heavy for my friends.
and they'll share with me their worries, their mistakes and their regrets.
and all I can feel is a weight that pulls on my chest,
unsure of whether sincerity overrides a word of encouragement,
for their sorrowful and underdeveloped conscience.
would I be better off if I pretend,
do you think?
if instead of sinking softly into my own skin,
I laugh and complain and play the part of a woman?
sometimes I feel like I am a separate species.
a societal defect placed among faces of similar prose and behavior.
is it possible that my worth is immeasurable in this small town?
that in another environment, much more simple than this, like a vast plain filled with opportunity and potential for deliberateness, I could thrive off of the thoughts my own brain creates?
somewhere where I wouldn't relate to anyone anyways, but it wouldn't matter, because there wouldn't be anyone else around.
I work hard to avoid indulgence in senseless behaviors.
I once thought about carrying around a tape recorder throughout my day,
just to prove the meaninglessness of the conversations I am trapped into overhearing.
and maybe then I could finally find someone,
to understand these selfish urges that wash over me to abandon all the people I hold closest to me and start fresh.
I don't know where this longing for a partner comes from, as I have always been more on the introverted side, never taking seriously my disappointment when a friendship fails.
after all, I have myself to handle.
most days, my heavy conscience is enough to bear, and I treasure the fact that it is my burden.
a burden is a bit harsh, I admit. my conscience is like an animal, something to train and teach how to properly react to various stimuli.
the difficulty comes with my uncertainty in these areas,
as even I do not truly know what is best for me.
this world can be lonely,
disappointing and it leaves me confused.
sometimes I accept that only I will be able to fully decipher the scenarios and fleeting thoughts that run through my head.
and the loneliness slips by,
and I'll remember that I am my own species,
unable and unwilling to adhere to the desires of this small town and all of it's superficial faces,
because in the end, there is me, and there is only me.
and I will always be the only person who is really there for me.