ArtSpeaks

At the end of a long day, where so much has gone wrong, I never seek the comfort of friends and family. For you see, it makes no sense for them to know what I’m going through. And I don’t want to seem self-centered, their thoughts are occupied with greater problems than my own. Not wanting to be a bother, I rant on about some irrelevant things that happened that day. Perhaps crack a joke or two. They like those. My goofy sense of humour has always drawn people to me. I find it slightly amusing, because sometimes it feels like I’m this venemous snake in a swan’s body. People see a bright, cheerful young lady that they can have a pleasant conversation with. I can be rather charming, in the shy and quirky way that the heroines in teen TV shows pull off so well. It all seems so wonderful on the surface that people just want to be more involved, and that’s where the danger sets in. Because underneath it all is an emotionally unstable wreck that doesn’t know how to let others in. One that desperately seeks true, unmasked closeness with another human being, but shall never attain it.
There are those that get close though. They get so very close and then they burn. I burn them. I unleash every weapon at my disposal, and push them right back out. Because even though there’s nothing I want more than to be completely vulnerable with someone and to just be accepted for who I am, I simply cannot allow myself to go there. It’s my nature.
So I seek my comfort elsewhere. In words of poets, lyrics of musicians and the graceful poses of ballerinas on the stage. Art speaks to me in ways that another human being simply can’t, and there’s no danger there. It’s safe.