To the readers of this blog it may seem difficult to believe that in the real word people call me "emotionless." In fact, one of my co-workers has said, "If ever a human was like a Vulcan, you are that human."
I guess I don't really like everyday people to know if I'm feeling bad or upset, mostly because I've spent years creating this facade that I'm untouchable. The truth is, this month especially, I've spent more hours laying on my bed in the depths of despair than I'm happy to admit.
I've become skilled at hiding how I feel so much that no one knows when I'm bothered. I can conjure up certain emotions by thinking about things that evoke those feelings: my nephew calling me "Uncle Pete", doing stupid stuff with the Littlebrother, Zoolander quotes, standing on top of mountains, you get the picture. But it never lasts, the smile fades and the forged emotion is gone until it's needed again.
Now I sometimes feel like I need a hand, but I can't ask for one. I'm the unflappable, it's not natural. I feel like admitting I'm unhappy is succumbing t defeat, and I also know that is my old-fashioned upbringing talking. I guess my problem for now is that there isn't anyone I feel I can trust with my ultimate secret. I'm wearing a mask. I feel.