The Day The Language Failed

I HAVE NO ONE TO TALK TO.  Do you guys find this, or is it distinctly a Rhandi phenomenon?

I have to censor everything I do or do not say to appease the ones whose company I am so keeping at any given time.  It.  Is.  Exhausting.  I have yet to find a person to whom I can be completely real with on one or more levels.  I do admit, I can be somewhat complicated.  I think that is ok.  What I long for is one who can relate to me on more than one level during a conversation without me having to don a Rhandi Façade to get through the dialogue.

Can anyone relate to that?

This evening I wore so many different faces to fit in long enough to not be alone that it tired me to such a degree that I simply walked away.  I left a conversation that I could no longer stomach for the sanctity of my currently quiet abode.

When I was in college, I felt like my most self.  I was always sharing my 'most' thoughts.  Now, I must withdraw my truthiness from those who instantly take offense and run.  They do.  That's what the world does now when you call them on bullshit.  They flee like a flock of scavenger birds at a carcass that is not quite deceased.  Fear compels these poor, vapid souls.  Fear of being found out for the scavengers they are.  It's cool.  Be a scavenger.  Once you're cool with the fact that you're near the bottom of the food chain and have little to offer the world except you're ability to consume rotting flesh at an alarming rate...we'll all be better for it.

I miss the days when shitty people knew deep down they were shitty and just fucked off after a while to the nether regions.  Now?  They wear glasses with no lenses in them and jean jackets that they purposely ripped up to look like they had been thrown from a moving vehicle when in reality they just cut up some clothes their mom bought them.

Where has authenticity gone?  Where has having a legitimate cause gone?  We care about the most inane nonsense now that my stomach hurts after listening to only a few minutes of it.  I try to be a good sport and give my full attention to the subject matter but after a time...I just want out.  Like, throw me from that same moving vehicle that 'pseudo made your jacket', out.

Fuck being single in a world where the art of conversation has died and no one has anything to say.