A piece of me.

I love books. I love the feel of them, their consistency, the characters coming to life. I have hundreds of books of different sizes, shapes, genres, authors. Each one has a special place in my life and my heart. You see, my books are my friends.

I'm not crazy. I know books are objects that can't relate to me, can't understand me. I project those things on the books as a function of the fact that I find comfort and happiness from them.

Because of my general make up, I am a caretaker. Whether I should or not, I feel responsible for more people than not. I don't resent that. It does however make it hard for me to connect to people.

I'm a "heavy" person by nature. Small talk doesn't work for me. It's not that I don't care how your day went or how your mother is doing, I'm just generally thinking on another plane. I'm more likely to discuss the interpersonal dynamics of your office that create the environment that led to your good or bad day. My sister says I take things too seriously -- OK, a lot of people say that. It's not that I am or want to be a stick in the mud; it's just the way I'm wired.

I'd love to be able to relax around people and just kick back, but with few exceptions, I find myself distant and awkward. Even in a room full of people, I can feel so separate.

TV shows like Bones and NCIS center around groups of people who in many ways are like me. They're not quite like everyone else and think a little differently, but they've found a place where they belong just as they are. As with my books, I find comfort in watching these characters and their relationships. I'm projecting again.

My ability to empathize with others is acute. It's part of the reason I can be so intense. It's also part of the reason I love to read so much. The characters become so real and the story so personal. I have no real relationship with these things, but the connection feels quite real.

But like any other dream, consciousness comes and the connection fades. The sad thing is I can't seem to recreate the experience in real life, and some times, my soul starves for it. I feel lost.

I am lonely.