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carthasisI used to know how to talk. At least I think so. I think I have vague memories of spending hours chattering on the phone, writing letters, diaries, essays, speaking to people standing in front of me, having things to tell them. I'm not sure if maybe I didn't dream all that. Maybe I just imagine I had something to say and all that came out was meaningless ramblings or everything was filled with the same awkward silence as now, except I choose to forget them. I don't know. I sure as hell don't know how to do it now. It's not just that I seem to be perpetually surrounded by my own silence, trying to fill it by talking to imaginary friends or boyfriends that aren't here that never will be here, because where will they come from if I don't have anything to say to them? I just don't understand how this communication things works. How do you find friends? How do you get to know people? What do you tell them, that catches their attention? If there is nothing there, no funny stories, no information, no advice, no anecdotes - what do you talk about if you have nothing to say? Except for how you have nothing to say, but really, you can't say that to someone you just met.
So I'm seeing this psychologist woman now and this is supposed to be about me, right? About meeting someone to whom I can tell things. Or something. I don't quite see the point. Except how is it supposed to work if half the time is filled with awkward silences, with me looking at the watch to see if the time's up yet, dreading it'll be because it'll be another missed opportunity to say something. Say what? I don't know, whenever I try to think of something I just get the usual silence echoing around in my head, as if it's hollow.
Instead of talking I then lie in bed, pitying myself for being so upset about not talking when it's my own fault if I don't. Or I post strange entries to online journals (haha, as if...) when this isn't really the place to do so... this is supposed to be the place to post funny or insightful or ranty things, not for self-pitying whining. I guess I could lock this, make it private but then it's again just myself alone with my own voice. I just don't see the point in it all.
So I'm seeing this psychologist woman now and this is supposed to be about me, right? About meeting someone to whom I can tell things. Or something. I don't quite see the point. Except how is it supposed to work if half the time is filled with awkward silences, with me looking at the watch to see if the time's up yet, dreading it'll be because it'll be another missed opportunity to say something. Say what? I don't know, whenever I try to think of something I just get the usual silence echoing around in my head, as if it's hollow.
Instead of talking I then lie in bed, pitying myself for being so upset about not talking when it's my own fault if I don't. Or I post strange entries to online journals (haha, as if...) when this isn't really the place to do so... this is supposed to be the place to post funny or insightful or ranty things, not for self-pitying whining. I guess I could lock this, make it private but then it's again just myself alone with my own voice. I just don't see the point in it all.
