Sometimes I wonder why do I bother to try to communicate when the only one to listen to me is an inanimate object. Telling twitter where I am going. It listens. Talking to Pages, it takes in all my thought, helps to sort out the story going on in my head. It corrects me trying to make sure I don't look stupid. Stupid for whom? Or is it who? what does it matter, no one wants to read it anyway.
Sometimes I wonder if I am going crazy? I'm communicating all the time. I belong to all kinds of communication groups. But who am I communicating with? My ramblings travel all across the globe and return to me in lightning speed, uninterrupted by humans. My voice bounces from one cloud to another, echoing in space and only I answer.
Sometimes I wonder when I am out doing an errand, why do I want to go home? A house full of empty people to paraphrase the movie. Am I intruding, should I bother relating what went on while I was gone. Who's interested. Who am I? The baby sitter, an old lady that rambles to much, someone who changes the cat box and worries that Sammy does not get fed because my granddaughter is to busy. I'm the one that worries to much for nothing. Because I've been told, don't worry it's not your problem. And I rush home to this.
Sometimes I wonder if this is the rest of my life, why bother?
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