Houston, We Have a Problem

Sometimes you commit so much energy, thought, and time to convincing others of your happiness that you eventually start to believe it. Before you sits an entire world of contrived moments that you hope justify and prove that you are indeed content. But once you find yourself alone, when all the people are gone, you're left with something so empty and fake that some sort of break down seems inevitable. It's a time and a place that you try to push away, to run from, but it really is no use. Failures, disappointments, and obligations loom ominously in corners while you fight to embrace the make-believe you've created.

And when you think of it, you can't help but be amazed at the intricately woven pseudo-life you've created. It's genius really. But the only thing failsafe about it is that it thrives hopelessly in your imagination. The memories aren't yours, the accomplishments are mere fiction, and there isn't anyway to take back the last few years of your life and make them your own. There isn't any worse feeling I can remember. There isn't a time that can be recalled that is this solitary. The thought of greeting another day knowing all this is devastating.

Knowing that I have little choice but to wake up tomorrow with the same vacant smile is such a painful thought. Knowing that there isn't anyone, not even your family, that could begin to understand what it is even like, is even worse. Crying is so foreign, feeling anything real is so far away.

It's all like my childhood nightmare come true. Floating helplessly in space, drifting off into nothingness. Coming from a place that does not readily acknowledge dependency, from people who have never had a need for careless emotions, makes me feel that it might be like this forever. I'm not sure if I can live such a hauntingly detached life. I don't know if I can maintain the fortress of my mind forever. It's hard to have to constantly push people away in fear that they will discover human qualities beneath your robotic perfection. Sometimes I wish I could warn people that my socially congenial behavior is just fake, that if they were ever to get beyond that they would find how cruel, detached, and uncaring I really am.

I just don't know which way is out.