I shall now attempt to write a post in which I discuss something that makes me feel less than sane without leaving you with the impression that I am not less than sane.
Already on shaky ground, aren't I?
I have this thing; it's an obsession really. I got it in my head months ago that I rarely have really good conversations with anyone. By "really good" I don't mean smart or funny or whatever. I mean conversations in which I feel like I am completely immersed — and they are as well — like we decided to hold hands and jump off a cliff together, confident that where we landed would be cool and refreshing like a lake in the middle of July or that it would be soft and pliant and we'd inevitably laugh as we bounced back up in the air — still holding hands — our insides jostled and silly.
I hear everything you're saying; you hear everything I'm saying. No distractions from the second track of thought running along in parallel; the track of doubt that — in addition to pulling my attention away — is populated by what I'm really thinking, including all the things I want to say but won't or want to ask but won't. And no distractions from wondering what's playing on your second track.
I don't have those conversations.
I don't hear everything you're saying and I don't say everything I want to say.
And it's making me lonely.
That is all.