Je ne parle pas beaucoup


I thought my Ex-Fiancé didn’t talk enough. I used to complain that he said nothing while I would talk and talk and talk.

Looking back, I see that I talked only about work. I still think he didn’t say enough and I don’t care about Mars, Venus, men and their cavern. So, I talked a lot…just about work. I wouldn’t open up about what I was going through at work, about being abused often since childhood, about my feelings. I just couldn’t.

And now, January 2008, I can talk and I still don’t do it. I have nothing to say. Work is irrelevant. I have nothing to say about my family or pretty much anything else. I write everything here, I go to see the therapist where I talk about everything (in the hopes I get fixed and can move on with life). But when I see my friends and the special colleague, I have next to nothing to talk about. I don’t even want to talk about my migraines because it would be complaining; talking about weight issues is ridiculous (I weigh at least 40 pounds less than my friends, it’s just that I’ gaining weght and it freaks me out); no one cares what I read about or what I watch on DVD since they don’t read or read other stuff or they don’t watch what I watch because they are not bilingual.

Then I wonder why I’m bored or realize I haven’t said a word during break time. Yes, bored. The conversations I have with people bore me. That is why the therapist suggested I made other friends that are more challenging or simply at my level. It’s hard to find.

Maybe that my lack of « talking power » makes people think I am a bore. That I’m stupid. No, it can’t be because I often express opinions at lunch time and they are far from stupid. But I do tend to be at their level so I talk about rumours (Britney always popular), work (to complain even if I don’t have to), food (because people know I cook).

Just thinking about the things that I talk about daily bores me. I better not talk and just shut up instead of saying boring, sad, stupid things.

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