Nothing to Hide

I woke up and told myself I was not my body, nor my mind, nor my mood. Too low, too biologically predisposed to stay in bed. I practiced being the observer of thoughts, of behaviors. Nothing but a boy washing himself in a shower. Nothing but a guy driving to the coffee shop. Nothing but a pull in the direction of a pretty girl. Nothing but a frustration with homework. Nothing but an ever present worry that loneliness will remain. And temporarily, I could of course remind myself that only yesterday I had felt otherwise. And tomorrow of course, could be a new day. Likely will be. Just focus on the task at hand, I told myself. And laughed at videos on youtube. And smiled at the games played at the baby shower. And reached out casually to those I love. And worried all the while in the back of my non present mind, that I was fooling myself. Going through the motions, while every bit of my soul pleaded for some taste of what is really desired, and my observer self reminded it that it wasn't true, wasn't the only reality. You're nothing more than a serotonin deficiency. Wear something nice in case they take pictures. Nothing but a gray sky. You should have combed your hair. Nothing but the lack of caffeine. You should eat more protein in the morning. Nothing but too much sleep. Go to target to get gift wrap. Nothing but a pending headache. Stop wasting your time on social media. Nothing but the end of a hard week. Help with the clean up at the party, find a role, don't hide, don't mind your phone, smile, speak louder, don't mumble, help others feel better for showing up, for contributing, think about their day, think about their anxiety, their nervousness, put yourself in their place but don't feel guilty, don't feel ashamed, thats the worst thing you could do right now. By the time I came home, I wanted to sleep but had a paper to write. Still do. I took a nap, had a dream that was thrilling and felt so real, woke up to multiple texts from people asking how I was. I didn't want to reply, worried it was my agitation and not my pain that wished to speak, wished to plead, wished to reach for something true in a day of being so outside myself.