Tonight I realized that, if I’m not careful, I start running a script in my head about how things “ought” to be in a given situation. Like at a concert, you’re supposed to do certain things, act a certain way. It’s game theory, really, the semi-conscious response to unwritten social rules. I find that when I obey the script and not my heart, I am very unhappy. The script said I needed to be at the concert with someone, perhaps a pretty girl. I was supposed to be a big fan and shiver in anticipation. I was supposed to jump around and be excited that someone was playing on the stage. I find that I can’t even walk straight when I’m going against my own path, let alone put on some facade of “thrilled concert goer.” As soon as I stopped scoping out women, stopped feeling sorry about the fact that I was there by myself, stopped being concerned about what I should do when the band was playing, I became supremely happy and at ease. It was perfectly okay to sit and write and occasionally remember that Coldplay was putting on a great show. I didn’t want my thoughts interrupted. I didn’t want to worry if some hypothetical date was having a good time. I didn’t want a script to interfere with my sense of self or my peace.

Solitary Shell
– Dream Theater

He seemed no different from the rest
Just a healthy normal boy
His mama always did her best
And he was daddy’s pride and joy

He learned to walk and talk on time
But never cared much to be held
and steadily he would decline
Into his solitary shell

As a boy he was considered somewhat odd
Kept to himself most of the time
He would daydream in and out of his own world
but in every other way he was fine

He’s a Monday morning lunatic
Disturbed from time to time
Lost within himself
In his solitary shell

A temporary catatonic
Madman on occasion
When will he break out
Of his solitary shell

He struggled to get through his day
He was helplessly behind
He poured himself onto the page
Writing for hours at a time

As a man he was a danger to himself
Fearful and sad most of the time
He was drifting in and out of sanity
But in every other way he was fine

He’s a Monday morning lunatic
Disturbed from time to time
Lost within himself
In his solitary shell

A momentary maniac
With casual delusions
When will he be let out
Of his solitary shell