THE ODDITIES OF PERSPECTIVE

I wish I could hold a worthwhile discussion with someone. Just for five minutes.
Not, for instance, apocalyptic revelation, St. Paul blinded-by-the-light indulgence, but a real, legitimate, human conversation. Mental communion. Factual consolidation. Spiritual instigation.
I could whip these things out for another hour, but I choose not to.
You're welcome.
As I was driving home this afternoon, I kept picking up my cell phone to call someone, anyone. And I scrolled through my phonebook, as name after glorious name flashed by, realizing:
[A] These people wouldn't want to talk to me if I called them.
[B] I probably wouldn't have anything to say to them if I angled up the courage to press the call button.
[C] I should be watching the road.
And that's when it hit me. No, not an epiphany, but an Altima.
I'm kidding. Really.
I make light of my stirring revelation, but in reality, it scares me. I have so little relationship in my "relationships." My lack of intimacy is prize-worthy. I have such frivolous definitions of communication and the genuine interchange of thoughts and ideas, that when faced with the option of legitimate mental union, I shudder, but for reasons unknown.
I've yet to find someone I feel undeniably comfortable talking to, myself excluded for obvious godliness.
I feel like such a surface individual: That all my communication and inspiration run two levels below my skin, and that I'm bypassing an entire universe of depth and productive utilization. Ugh. I can't even find the words I'm searching for.
Maybe it's a waste of my time. Maybe I'll wander aimlessly in some sort of dramatic stupor until I finally find my talkative soulmate.
I don't know.
"Who does, really?"