I didn’t write this song

Lately I’ve been plagued by a strange feeling. I guess I can blame the whole, being unemployed for an extended period of time thing, but I just feel like I’m about 4 years old. I go into the kitchen and I don’t understand why it is I can reach the kitchen cabinets. It feels strange to be tall enough to do that…even though I still need a step stool to reach the top shelf but that’s beside the point. I don’t understand ho wit’s possible for me to be a 22 year old woman with a college degree. It feels like that was all a dream, and I’ve been living in this house for the past 22 years writing songs about Doctor Who and blogging.

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If you have something to say, say it to me now.

There are some nights when all you can do is stare…and wait. There are some nights, when reading a comic book simply isn’t good enough. When you’ve lost control of all semblance of focus and you begin to drift away. You float off in your mind to the future, to a time when what happens tonight doesn’t matter anymore because you’ll be back among friends. In that space you are free to say whatever you want, speak to anyone…not be afraid to say hello. Freedom…to just say whatever’s on your mind.

I think too many people take this ability for granted. There are people out there who have no one to share the little amusing seemingly inconsequential thoughts of their day with. It doesn’t have to be a lover, or a family member. Sometimes, most times in fact, I think this role falls to the friends. People who most times have vast stores of their own seemingly inconsequential thoughts to share as well. I cherish these people. On occasion, I think too many things to focus on one stream of consciousness and I need someone to talk to me and keep me grounded. It helps to share thoughts, to keep them in order. I used to feel like I had one of these people…a long time ago. That’s not to say that I don’t anymore, things are just different now. I go through entire days and barely talk to anyone. Instead I find myself engaging in much more…reclusive activities.

Some nights I can’t do anything but think. I just sit and wonder. All I want to know is how you’re doing, but I’m afraid that now just isn’t the time. No that’s a lie, what i’m really afraid of is that things have changed. I’m afraid that things have changed so much that you don’t want me anymore, that you’ve completely and totally moved on. That’s ok I suppose…it’s happened before…I’m sure I’ll get over that someday.

This is one of those nights. A time when just reading The Walking Dead, or writing in my blog, or watching some Doctor Who just isn’t enough to hold my attention. I suppose I’ll just call it an early Tuesday…and try again tomorrow.