Psychodramatic So and So

You ever have those days where nothing seems to be going on in your life? Really, you wake up and for some strange reason, your skin feels like it belongs to someone else. There's no great tragedy, no overwhelming crisis, no drama, just an overbearing...nothing. You brush your teeth staring at the stranger in the mirror wearing your face. You have your breakfast, you read the paper full of the usual shit that rains across the globe. Your email account is empty. Your facebook page has one or two notifications but nothing sent to you specifically. Just people who have commented on things you've commented on in the past. Some of them, well, most of them, you couldn't care less about.

You step out of your apartment and the Sun is unhappy to see you, so ups the heat. The wind, that was blowing so sweetly a moment ago, decides it's time to go blow elsewhere. Even the dog in your building that usually leaps into your arms and licks the entire side of your face is strangely subdued, barely managing a single wag of his tail at the sight of you. There's a sense of malaise and lethargy that seems to squat down around you, making everything appear as if seen through a heat haze.

You sit in your home and look around at all the things you could be doing and do none of them. Or even if you do, it's with such a sense of futility or dissatisfaction that you decide it's better not to attempt anything at all.

I've sat at this computer intermittently about six times today. I've refreshed my facebook page, my email about a dozen times. I leaped at my phone when it rang only to have someone attempt to sell me some hair brained scheme to invest in shady real estate in Ghatkopar. I've scrapped at least three pieces that I've been trying to write. One of them was so bad it made my eyes wet with boredom just scanning the first line.

What's missing? Yesterday I was happy for no reason. Today I am not. Am I, are we all, at the mercy of things so infinitesimal that they can affect us so profoundly without even announcing themselves or leaving any clues? What moves beneath the ocean of our thoughts that sends these bubbles up to mess with our surface? What behemoths swim beneath the brine, unnoticed save for the wake they leave behind?

Maybe what I really need is one tight slap. And luckily for me I have a number of people in my life who would love to give me one if they saw me like this right now. Maybe I should just call one of them. There's nothing quite so comforting as the righteous tirade of a loved one towards all your bullshit. I love it. Everytime my mother, or sisters, or girlfriend, or friend starts to lecture me on topics I deserve lecturing, one part of my brain is paying attention, the other is fighting to keep the smiles of joy from my face. They just wouldn't take it the right way were I to beam at them mid-tirade and thank them for loving me enough to slap my ego and sense of self-loathing around like they needed to.

The problem I've come to realize, is that when I get left alone for too long now, I start feeling bereft. See, I'm a psychodramatic so and so. I work my issues out through high drama and play-acting. Nothing rejuvenates me more than making someone laugh with the way I relate my woes with much mimicry and high elocution. I used to be a loner. I used to like it that way. But I'm happy to know that I'm not anymore. I like people, and they like me. And I think I need to stop writing and get out of this house and just run into someone somewhere and make them smile, with me or at me, doesn't matter. Today I need to feel a part of the human race. I can go back to being a misanthropic so and so tomorrow. Ciao!