Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Scream (Not the Scary Movie)

I think there's something to the fact that when babies are born, they're screaming bloody murder. Just when they get used to the warm cushion of a woman's belly, BAM! They're struck with the harsh reality that is life, and there's nothing they can do but scream. Sometimes I wish there was a place I could scream, but I choose not to, because it goes against societal rules. If you walk around screaming, you'll get restrained. I can't scream in my apartment; the tenants will hear. I can't scream outside; the neighbors will hear. I can't go to the Hoboken pier and scream; people will hear and will think something's wrong. Maybe something IS wrong, but I don't want anyone else to know that. Isn't life just a lot of screwed-up people walking around, looking like they have it all together? But if I scream, my outsides will match my insides, and I'll look crazy. So sometimes I scream. Inside my head. Then I go on about my day, just another screwed-up person who looks like she has it all together.

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