The Why

I am more comfortable talking about my most personal fears and thoughts, and desires and dreams on my blog, with it's false sense of anonymity, than with anyone I actually know. Sure, people I know will read it. But then, they can choose to have the conversation or not. There's no awkwardness where I say something, and they are visibly and expectedly uncomfortable. There's no face-to-face, urgent, penetrating moment where I have to wonder if that person gets me, like really and truly,  that what I'm saying. is. Resonating. There aren't any obligatory nods or hollow words of encouragement and reassurance or insincere attempt at empathy.
I don't like to see the eyes as they strain and falter to find something relevant and meaningful to say. 
Maybe that's just me. 
 There are some that feel we are all connected and that makes us never alone. Then there are some that are painfully aware of the tragic and painful yet equally beautiful and necessary space between us all. Yet, there is still the hope in us all that we aren't the only ones. 
This is why I write. There is a space inside that is empty and wrenching and painful when I don't. There are endless questions and paradoxes and even, sometimes peaceful and quiet observations inside and they all refuse to be stacked neatly in the corners of my mind while I trudge on through my daily life. They, like me, will not be shushed. 
For someone who is really always talking, there is so much I can never seem to say. I just fill space, usually insignificantly; having conversations without real consequence is protective and safe.
I like to pretend that what I'm saying has some meaning, I'm sure we all do. The truth is, most of who I really am. What I really feel. Is hidden quite deep.
There is a spectacularly dark place we all go, and probably also try very hard to ignore.
The Why place.
When you start to question things, a sense of restlessness appears, quietly at first, nagging and tugging until it fully unsettles you. and satisfaction and contentedness become just....Out of reach.
In their place; however, a new thing forms. For me, it was just that thought.....the thought that, without the Why, I would disappear into a desolate void of normalcy. I much prefer to embrace the darker, uncertain, uncomfortable, artistic side of things than to try to swallow all the "normal". We've created an empty and awful place where conformity is fois gras: ideal body image and socially acceptable gender roles and behavior, what products to buy, even unrealistic parenting standards are shoved down our throats;
but I'm not even a duck.
I have this moment here, where I can scream out something and no one turns their heads and thinks I'm crazy. I can say that I won't be shushed, or that I can't be the only person in the world who is never not lonely, or perhaps write paragraphs about how much I love thunderstorms, how all of the seasons are my favorite, but only the beginnings of them because it's new and exciting, or how I think Frank Sinatra is the best way to start every single day. 
Sometimes, writing for me is the equivalent of a two year old throwing themselves onto the floor and screaming and crying in frustration that they aren't quite understood. Sometimes, though, it's a way to capture the stillness of that perfect content moment when you notice how gently the wind coaxes the leaves of the tree outside your window to dance and play on a perfect, crisp fall morning. Sometimes, it's a reminder not to forget to look out that window. 

This Is Why I Write. Because if I didn't, I would suffocate and die trying to swallow all the disgusting things I'm fed about who I should be, how I should act, what I should look like, dress like, when to cry, and when and how to be angry. I would suffocate on the empty illusion of success and happiness. 
I choose to learn to breathe. I choose to not be a duck. I choose the Why. I choose to look out the window. 
Maybe one day, we can sit and talk about it. I won't ask. 
I only invite you to read and hopefully, I make you very uneasy. Hopefully, sometimes too, you're nodding and smiling and occasionally you'll look off and think "Yes!" But, I don't have to sit and stare at you waiting and hoping for that moment. 

I do so hope you enjoy my journey......not being a duck and looking out the window and breathing and having tantrums with me. And If not, we don't ever have to talk about it.