The rain in Spain falls mainly in my brain.

The rain came all of a sudden tonight. In the aftermath of a pretty good show and as a predecessor to a fun late night out of shenanigans and the like. Then the rain came again, enough for me to unsheath the leopard print umbrella and worry for the state of my suede pants.

Other people seem to connect more deeply than I at times. I catch myself envying it. I am usually open to the depth of meaningful interaction, but I feel alien and outside of it. I feel like I'm the one person sitting at the foot of the Christmas tree who didn't get a present, and everyone else is jubilantly caught up in opening their gifts and showing them off and fawning over them. And I don't want anyone to make a fuss, so I just sit still and silent and tell myself that I didn't really want a gift anyway. No one knows what I want. I'll just buy something for myself. Oh, that's a tough candy coating I wear. One could shatter it with less than the assistance of a toffee hammer.

I think it would be a step in the right direction if I didn't always have to feel such shame about the weaknesses I fall prey to. If only I could allow myself to express a desire or to come to the table with a need. If only I could allow myself to ask. But even those who promise to be there for me when things get harrowing never expect me to hand over my claim check. And I sense my own reluctance to gauge that disappointment -- that look of inconvenience that comes over a face when I say, "You see, it's just that I've been feeling this way..."

I have no idea what I want.