Fake It 'Till You Make It

I have this 'thing' I've realized...that I don't know what to think, or talk about when the world doesn't feel like it's ending. I can't even identify what I'm feeling - "I'm o.k." - whatever that means... "Fine" always works, (but is often inappropriate).

I think that I've been in crisis mode for so long now, that I'm lost when the storm clears. It's like I know I should force a smile because I'm not morose at the moment, but I am really sad, hurting...grieving I guess, so I'm not sure whether to smile or look somewhat troubled - which results in a sort of crooked grimace...

I hate fake.
I don't do fake.
I can't stand fake.

But I'm beginning to understand that being fake is what people confuse with growing up. Adults get dressed for work and immediately assume the professional - "my life is this sale...right here, right now, just you and me...there is nothing else going on and noone else but you" - kind of plastered, painful smile. And they spend 8 hours trying to maintain that same character...and then they go home and role play someone else. The world is your stage and all the people...merely players in your play. What a crock of shit.

The more I study my surroundings and the people in it, the more I am convinced that the majority of us are walking around wounded and broken and bleeding. Watch people - I mean really watch people - when they don't know they're being watched. It won't take too long before you begin to notice the quiet sighs, or the saddness in their eyes, or the subtle slumping of their shoulders. What if instead of flippantly yelling "Hey! How are ya?" at someone while trotting across a busy street or talking on your cell phone, you stopped...looked at them...and asked how the new job was going...or how they were feeling since that last round of chemo...or if they'd like to grab a cup of coffee with you, so you can find out how they've been doing since the divorce.

Why is life like this? I think about my day and the things that prevent me from stopping to talk and really connect and it's ridiculous! What has happened to us that we can let the mundane responsibilities and the general busyness of life take over? How warped is our society that we can cross the street in order to avoid the girl who's crying, instead of just taking a seat next to her. Are people embarrassed by it? Are we afraid of her?

I don't understand. And I don't get why I care what people think of me, but I do. And I hate that too. So I'm stuck...somewhere between just wanting to stuff it all and fake happy, until I begin to believe that I am and my desire to always be real and true and face things instead of hiding.