Not Just (one) Voice

{I just wanted to feel Human, by Alyssa}

I never wanted to be an Astronaut.

I never wanted to be a doctor, either.

I think I used to tell people I wanted to be a singer.

Even though I used to listen to Britney Spears and cringe at the thought of having to dress that way.

Money wasn't a part of things at that point. Back then I assumed that people did things because they wanted to. I thought that working at macdonalds meant that you really liked hamburgers and being a doctor meant that you really liked white coats. I never wanted to be an astronaut. I was a child inside of her own mind. Much as I am today.

You see, back then, I had learned to contemplate my existence. At ten years old, I'd sit in the car and zoom out slowly. I'd force myself to see things in perspective, until the sheer magnitute of outer space frightened me back into my own reality. I was still me, yet I could feel my palms start to warm and heart start to thump. As scary as it was, I never told anyone because even then I knew it would appear strange to ask such a profound question. "Why are we here? What is the point of Life." I didn't know what scared me more, the possibility of an answer or the possibility of there being none. Imagining space made my brain hurt in a way I couldn't explain.

I never wanted to be an astronaut, because even when you're up there with people you're terribly alone. You're alone in your own head, with your own thoughts. You are on your own journey and no one can ever understand what that would feel like. No picture could accurately describe what I knew would felt like a stifling inner silence.

I never wanted to be an astronaut. I never wanted a job that would make me confront what I was timidly questioning then. "What is the point of Life?" That was the day I stopped seeing my parents as parents, but rather as people. I have always been able to see right through people. I realized then that parents do not know everything and neither do people, for answers to profound questions asked by profound children are profoundly difficult to answer.

And now, nine years later, I'm still sitting in the backseat, asking myself questions I don't want the answers for. 

I've been in my head keeping my mouth shut for all these years and I'm just starting to unravel it all.