I wish I wasn’t me.
Not that I don’t love who I am, I do.
I love that art can bring up an achy, fluttery feeling in my chest that I can’t get enough of.
I love that my perfect day would be spent on a cozy couch in deep conversation with a kindred spirit.
I love that I am sarcastic and witty.
I love that I have a gift of seeing through the masks people live behind and have the opportunity to peek at their soul, whether they like it or not.
I love that my thick body has cushioned curves that keep me warm and comfortable.
I love that music can make me feel like it is literally pulling at the strings of my heart.
I love that my artist hands can create the perfect brushstroke of eyeliner.
I love the depth of my thoughts.
I love the beauty I am capable of creating.
I love how stubborn I am on keeping my life private, classy, and mature.
I love that I am well known for my drive and motivation to succeed in everything I do.
I am great.
But I am so lonely.
You wouldn’t think so.
I have a best friend.
I am well known in my community.
Everyone talks about how friendly and outgoing I am.
But I haven’t found that person who gets me.
Who encourages me when I’m “working too hard” instead of trying to convince me to slow down and take it easy.
Who finds my need for an immaculate house to be endearing, not obnoxious.
Who likes to make observations with me about culture, music, art, stereotypes and anything else that comes up in conversation.
Who loves to learn with me about anything because it doesn’t matter what it’s about, it’s learning.
Who understands the pain I feel living in a crude, selfish world.
I hate being rare.
I want to have that someone who I can talk to so I don’t feel like I’m alone in this.
My friends “tolerate” my conversations or rants about life, music, and art.
They roll their eyes when I talk about what new things I want to learn and become good at.
They say I’m “too proper” when I don’t laugh at crude humor and think I’m crazy when I want to keep my private life..private..
I’m not uppity.
I’m not proper.
Why do I have to feel like I’m fifty years older than my friends?
This does not make me feel cool, or unique or mature.
It makes me feel unbearably alone.
And I am scared and alone.
I just need a friend.