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I think a lot. No, really. I think very analytically and mathematically. I analyze like no other. I analyze people, shapes, colors, numbers, shadows, goals, and very essence of “meaning”. Coupled with the discernment that God has given me, my analytical thought helps me to “read” people, and I must say, I’m very good.

For some reason, people can’t read me. I’ve been told this for a long time. But...I’m not quite sure as to the reason. I get the question all the time “What does that face mean? Why do you just give me a look instead of a response?” I guess I can’t really understand how it’s so easy for me to read people, but then it’s super difficult for everyone else to read me. I just don’t get it. Like, am I making it difficult on purpose or is this something that I can’t control? If I can control it, why do I? What prompted me to do so? The possibilities could be endless. Maybe I’ve learned this art as a mode of survival. Maybe it was just a way to deal with my parent’s disappointment towards me. Maybe I’ve been told things that no one else is supposed to know and to keep myself from saying the wrong thing, I just don’t say anything. Maybe I grew up being told that my opinion didn’t matter. Maybe my thought process is so whacked-out-weird that the world would be better off not knowing what’s going on in my head. Maybe it just takes me longer to open up to people. Or maybe I’ve been emotionally exploited in the past. Maybe I just don’t want to be read. Maybe it’s all of the above...or maybe none of the above. What if I said it was a test? A test to see who cared enough to ask “What are you thinking?”. A test to determine the probability of being written off.

I don’t know the truth. I can’t pinpoint one of these maybes and say that it’s the one reason. I think it’s all of them. I think that the real reason is because I don’t know who I am, and I can’t stand the idea of someone else figuring me out before I can.

Or maybe I really do want to be read and I can’t figure out how.

Lost in the Laughter

I like to consider myself a fairly sociable person. I mean, I love people and I’m always around people. My room is consistently filled with various types of people and personalities. I am notorious for movie nights...you know, with chips, chocolate, soda, popcorn, kool-aid, or really any type of movie-watching-snack. And I love it! I love that people like to be around me. I love that I can make people feel wanted or like they finally belong somewhere.

Laughter is a key part of my life. I love to be happy and to make others happy. Honestly, I think I’m hilarious. You know that annoying person who always laughs at their own jokes? Yeah...that’s me. Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m the funniest when I don’t try to be, but I try to be funny a lot. It’s true.

But...it’s so easy to get lost in the laughter.

I want to fit in, like not compromise who I am or morph into something that I’m not, but I want to be liked by people. I mean, it’s a natural desire, right? But there are times when laughter becomes a mask. I’ll be going along, smiling, and cracking jokes, but deep down, I’m hurting, wrestling against brokenness, and losing. You know? Like, I try to make myself laugh as an attempt to forget how much I want to cry. Sometimes it just feels easier to become another laugh in the crowd, than to be the one shimmering tear that everyone has to point out.

And then I feel alone. And that’s the worst feeling in the world...being surrounded by people and still feeling unprotected and abandoned. No one else could possibly feel what I feel. Sometimes, I wish that they could understand or possibly get some insight to what I’m thinking, but that would require me talking about it and facing that one tear head on. That would require becoming vulnerable and possibly being rejected by the ones that mean the most to me. I want more than this. I long for more than this silent brokenness. I’m just existing.

But if you think about it...isn’t everyone just lost in the laughter?

Silent Cries