Who really cares?

You know, I was going to start this piece with a trite description of what the weather has been like over the past few days, but then the thought suddenly occurred to me, "who really cares?". Have you ever launched into a description of some event in your life, or a situation that you were dealing with, and have that thought suddenly pop into your mind even as you are mid sentence. And as your lips are still moving, and you look at the person that you are talking too, you feel an overwhelming desire to just quit talking, but you know that if you do that, while you may feel some momentary relief as a result of giving in to that urge, it will quickly be followed by the uncomfortable notion that some might think you are nuts, unless of course, you feel compelled to give an explanation in which case, you are only exchanging one long, winding explanation for another. Who really cares?
We fill up our days and our communications with the mundane, finding safety I suppose in these words that act like a screen to keep our souls safe from the curious eyes of the world. It is easier than talking about the things that touch us in the most intimate of ways, pain so exquisitely pointed at the core of our being, emotional hurts that we cannot bear to speak of, humilitiations, joys....our own private stories. Do we really want to tell our truths? And how do we decide whom to tell those truths to?

Or maybe I'm just tired.