I Can't Ignore How Similar Loneliness and Hunger Are

I can't ignore how similar loneliness and hunger are.

Loneliness for an introvert is unbearable. As unbearable as the broiler setting would be to an ice cube—a different environment. I used to think of "keeping my sense of humor" as a strength. It's not, at least, not anymore. It's a mask—a shroud. Why cant I cry? Because I laugh, often maniacally. Now I find myself weeping on a "Sunsational" Saturday morning, I've lost the humor. I'm so Goddamn lonely and can't do a thing about it. So, let my hair down and go on and cry? OK. Check.

What does it solve, nothing. What does sleeping solve? Nothing. WHy sleep when you can worry? Worrying is, by nature, selfish, though, for we should trust God in all we do. Do you know how hard that is? What will become of me in life? What the hell have I done besides mess up after mess up? I don't even have a friend I could call right now. Not that I'm the "call you crying" type. No, which is why men love me. That, and my wit.

But wit is but a feather in my mask. I use it when I flirt and become vulnerable. I use it when I feel sad or * gasp * lonely. I use it when I'm nervous. One hell of a defense mechanism, don't you think? Reaction formation? I become witty when I come unglued, for wit is tight, calm, cool togetherness. I use it when I write these stupid blogs to keep from being "too emotional" or complaining. I hate complainers, but I hate false people even more-so.

Don't be fooled by my calm visage—I've been false. I've been hiding.

I hide behind the "I hate people" image, so many "friends" think I actually subscribe to, I don't hate people and I am not socially inept. I find most people iritating and FALSE. I want real, lasting, truthful realationships, but I do not find them. Howcan I be so open when I seek and do not find? Tell me, my extroverted social geniuses. Tell me.

I do not have a need to please everyone, or to have everyone accept me, but to paint me as "anti-social" or "depressed" or whatever, is just plain wrong. I hate it. I don't care if you like me, but please don't think that, anything but that. Children are the same story, I do not want them, and no it won't change when I have my own, because I'm not going to. Blah blah blah. I do not like them. Do I hate them, no. Do I hate anyone? No.

I just want to rest. I want to go home, but even home isn't really home anymore.