Dream Journal: Set Up

Come and meet him, she said. Well here I am, face to face, terrified. How could she expect me to believe her? There he sits, handsome, funny, smart, perfect, and she expects me to believe I have a chance with him? Just put on that fake smile and chat a while. He's tall and the perfect shape, big brown eyes, neat brown hair, and the most amazing accent. He radiates confidence and so nice. Does he like me? That's absurd and highly illogical. Why any man like him would find me anything other than friendly is inconceivable, impossible, irrational. I dismiss myself to my bedroom to get something, just a little control. Don't break down in front of him. Slumping against the door, I cry, holding my face in my hands. It's only pity he's here, he pities me and my loneliness that's all. Maybe she payed him to sit there on the couch with his handsome face and make me feel better,make me think I could get a man like that. Or maybe he does like me and I'm being stupid. No, no way in hell that's true. I'm just not the right material for him, for any man. I'm better suited to sit here in solitude and cry my problems away and then go out and face the world with the perfect mask of jolliness and mirth. That's how I'm supposed to be, yes? Jolly and laughing with the rest of the world, never showing a sign of weakness or risk being ridiculed. Or is that just the standard I set for myself to prevent this kind of pain? A vicious cycle of trying to stop the pain with seclusion but mental isolation is what is causing the pain I so desperately try to hide. I'm such a liar, to myself and to those who try to help me. Its not their burden to bear, this ache to have what they have, it isn't fair!