Blog, Essays & Art

Composure. 10/20/04

I am proud of how I can hold it all together and not just break down screaming at work. Or on the bus.

Maybe I’m not stronger than anyone else and have no real reason to be proud of myself. Maybe everybody does it, hides their real emotions, concerns, opinions behind a mask. Pretends. Tries to guess what ‘normal’ might be, and then tries to pass as normal. I dunno.

I wonder what sanity really is. Maybe everyone but me knows that I’m schizophrenic or manic depressive or mildly autistic or borderline or codependent or antisocial or narcissistic or paranoid or bipolar or whatever.

I don’t think I’m going to ask anyone about that.

I don’t want to care what other people think of me. It doesn’t affect my self-esteem or anything like that. But the way life works, I have to care at times. I feel compelled to give the impression that I’m hardworking to my boss. To give my landlady the impression that I’m reliable and a good groundskeeper. To give prospective employers the impression that I’m amazingly competent and the perfect choice for a new employee.

Sometimes I just want to chuck it all and go live in a cave somewhere.


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