It sucks to feel so misplaced sometimes. Like why am I here? Everyone else seems to be getting along, making jokes, and just being…normal. And I’m sitting there watching everyone interact and get along greatly, while I imagine what it would be like if I was here alone with the crowd. I’d have nothing to say. If I did have something to say, it wouldn’t be funny, or cool, or interesting. At least I don’t think. I’m sitting at a table with six women and the jokes are flying. Laughter is running rampant through them all and I’m just sitting here. I’m not always like this, but I said something about thirty minutes ago that I guess they didn’t like, and now I feel awkward. I felt awkward before, but I attempted to participate. I guess that backfired. I’m really not always like this. There’s just something strange about being around a group of people who all seem to be the same, or are just comfortable with each other, and you just feel so…different. I don’t know. I wish I was more social. Everyone went outside to take pictures and I decided to stay back so I could write. As I’m writing, I feel this sense of relief just washing over and that when I post this, at least one person will understand. I don’t think anything is wrong with me, but I really wish it was easier for me to fit in…blend in. I wish I had the urge to joke with everyone else instead of just observe. The people closest to me will see the comedic side of me. They’ll see the part of me that is open and free and isn’t afraid of being embarrassed. Strangers see that same side. Yet, there’s something odd about being around acquaintances that I can’t….I can’t get used to it. Makes me feel like I’m not normal. I’m just glad my little cousin is here with me. He understands me..or tries to. I’d just really like to go home and finish reading my book.


5 thoughts on “Journal

  1. Do you know what is so refreshing about your writing? Well, I’ll tell you even if you think you already know. It is like you plucked my feelings and thoughts right out of my brain and heart and because of that I have no doubt I am not alone in how I feel. You, I know, would understand how I would stand across a crowded room and want to give you a hug but be so afraid to take that first step.

    1. Oh, Kate. How I wish we could hug and silently relay to one another that we understand each other. You’re not alone and I’m not alone, yet in the real world, it certainly feels that way.

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