Today, after what seemed to be a rather lengthy hour and a half of Human Nutrition, I went to the library. But this wasn't any old day at the library. Today, I wanted answers.
I walked straight up to the little librarian with bright red lipstick and black framed glasses.
I walked up to her and she had no idea that she was about to help me figure my life out.
"Where are the Nietzsche books? Where is the philosophy section?" I said with little to no hesitation.
"Try the 169 N section." She said.
I ran as fast as a person possibly could run with squeaky black leather boots on trying not to make a scene, could run.
There in the 169 N section I sat.
Plopped my sweet little ass on the ground, just staring at all the books around me.
"I Can Read You Like a Book. How to Read Body Language."
"The Purpose Everyone is Searching For."
And all of a sudden I felt the most intense feeling overcome me.
A horrible anxiety took over my entire body and I began to cry.
No one around, not a soul, nothing but thousands of books.
So, I sat there for a while, a little long while.
And then it came to me. If there are all of these books and those books are here for a reason, I am not the only one who has felt like this. (Which is apparent, but if anyone.... you can't really say that nor reason with a young woman who has hormones raging thought her entire body!)
For hundreds, maybe even thousands of years, people have been asking the same question(s) I've been questioning.
So, after I pulled myself together I called the near and dear to me.
He answered, wondered why I was whispering.
"I'm in the library." I said, trying to keep my nose from running down my face.
"Ohhh." He said in a whisper. "I see." (Still whispering.)
And then I proceeded to ask him if he was making fun of me... You know, just to make sure he wasn't because now was not the time nor place to do such a thing.
I know it's normal to wonder. But why do some people wonder more than others? Why, lucky me, am I one of those?
Being numb isn't all that bad, I mean I did it for almost a year. (No, no I didn't. That ladies and gentlemen is what we call depression.) Why can't I always just think of rainbows and sunshine? I know, I know. So I can appreciate the other. But why the other? Why for every positive does there have to be a negative. (I know these answers. It's just better for all of us if I type them out.) For love, you have to have hate? God, that's awful. You're not supposed to hate anyone, but you have to, so you can love? All these things seem ass backwards to me. Whatever.
I get it.
Life goes on.
I'm still rainbows and sunshine,
with an occasional little black cloud.