missing me

i feel like i live in two dimensions. on one level, i have always been the misanthropic bitch who would rather talk to herself in the mirror than suffer in the company of other people. on another level, i am the sweet, fun-loving, thoughtful co-worker who would endure one-sided conversations (with me on the listening end) at the pantry during the office lunch hour.

somehow, though, i'm not myself anymore.

i miss writing. i miss having all the time in the world to do nothing but immerse myself in my own mental universe. i miss the deliberate act of writing down my random thoughts in pen and paper. now i'm resigned to writing blogs and emails. i feel so detached from the world that i revelled in.

i miss being involved, not with someone, but in something. i miss having a mission and a purpose. oh, i still have my goals, but somehow, i've been sidetracked by the need to make ends meet. my life as a student writer was filled with the all-consuming passion to question the notions people have always percieved as truth and to make individuals criticize the realities they're used to. now as a call center e-rep, i find myself drowning in mundane concerns; bills to pay, quotas to reach, appraisals to pass...like a zoid in auto-mode: i eat, i work, i sleep and ,then, i wake up and do it all over again without complaint.

i miss sharing uncensored thoughts with kindred souls at 3 in the morning. i remember spending countless nights with the friends who know me the most--talking about life, politics, faith (and the necessity of God), the futility of nurturing romantic relationships, man's addiction to celebrity, insatiable needs, unwanted pleasures, and whatever else we could think of.

i miss the feeling of knowing that although i don't have all the things i want, i had all the things i need.

the weirdest thing is, i find myself satisfied with the monotony of the life i live now. and that scares me.