I have filled my time with so many books lately, I do not know where one ends and the other begins. I don’t know why that is. Or maybe I do. It’s much easier to experience someone else’s problems from the outside looking in, rather than my own. I’d much rather be a spectator, selfish as that may sound. “Let me read about yours instead of looking inwardly at myself”.
Is it denial? Or is it the fact that I have no idea what my issues are? Actually, a better way to put it would be…I really don’t know how to explain anything going in on in my head through words. I really don’t. I wish I could take *feeling* and lay it out on a table. “Here! See! Do you ever feel this? WHAT IS IT?” That would be so much simpler.
I feel like I am everywhere and nowhere all at once.