Sometimes I worry that I’m going to stop making sense to people.
Perhaps I should rephrase that. I already believe that I’ll be senile when I get older. Or, at the very least, that people will write me off as senile. I can completely see myself sitting out on a porch or a stoop, rambling at all the kids in the neighborhood, giving unsolicited advice and quoting poetry and speeches; telling people which books they should read.
“Oh, that’s just Miss Khalilah,” people will say, as they either hurry past me or actually stop to listen bemusedly. Most will think I’m a crazy but sweet old lady, and a couple people will actually take what I say to heart. I’m perfectly fine with that, because I know that for the most part, I’ll be allowed to live inside my head while still making contact with the world in whichever ways I want.
The problem is that when you’re a “crazy” old lady inside a young adult’s body, people just see you as crazy. Or full of shit. Neither view is benevolent.
Lately, it’s like my mind has been on a different wavelength from everyone else’s. This has always happened to some extent, where I make connections in places other people wouldn’t think to go, but I’ve always been able to tie things together in some way. It’s also usually been in casual conversation. Now, it’s like I know that the connection is there, but as I’m explaining, I realize that I cannot articulately tie anything together. This leads to too many trail-offs, as I desperately hope that someone will see where I’m coming from, but also know that as I seem to have forgotten myself, the chances of that happening are slim. It’s started to happen in class, and in more important conversations. It’s worrisome, because while I know that I’m not talking about Nothing, I’m not always sure if others will actually see it as Something, either.
I’m hoping that this is just a result of being sick, which I am at the moment. I become even more Out Of It whenever I’m sick; it’s like the aches and pains in my body and head cloud my brain. If this isn’t a side effect of being sick, I’m not sure what to do about it. There’s only so much thinking I can do before speaking. Maybe the solution will be to cut back even more on speaking, and really give in to listening. Or maybe the problem is that I’ve been listening so much that I haven’t had enough practice getting my own messages across. Maybe I literally need to start talking myself out of my situations, in the hopes that I’ll catch myself along the way.
Thoughtfully, of course. Ain’t nobody over here trying to be Michael Scott.