I must have it all wrong.
I must be wrong.
I must be delusional.
These past few weeks have been ups and downs. I'll normalize myself and then, bam, swing into the lull that prods me towards becoming a hermit. At least as a hermit, I couldn't do wrong.
It feels like an endless dose of miserable teenage angst that I thought would be over by now. I'm trying to figure out how to break the cycle. I've been sleeping, no dairy or sugar... so many odd sensations. I have no desire to really go out and find most of my peace in staying solo.
In conversations, as of late, I've had this record going on in my head that says, "I have nothing to say." When I meet new people, I struggle to think of questions to ask. It feels like the conversation is happening because it's supposed to happen and I don't have what it takes to make it happen. I have no desire to pretend like we have something to talk about.
There was a Russian man that I stayed with for a few nights up in the polar circle. One thing I liked about him is that he acknowledged, first thing, that he's not one for conversation and prefers things quiet. I felt so at peace no trying to search for topics.
I know there are things to talk about,
but so much of it seems like filler. It seems forced.
Sometimes I get a solid conversation, and I appreciate that, but that seems rough and rare.
Update: Few days after writing this I landed myself in the house of a human I could really crazy relate to in a lot of ways and it made me feel alive and human again and that is something I celebrate.