In an island all alone

Its almost midnight, and the feeling won't stop.
Like in that June night long ago, or was it May, I don't recall.
Tonight, there's no one to call
No reason to quote
I keep looking, folder after folder
Place after place
I roamed around the city, searching face after face
Is it the purpose card again?
Don't know...
It won't stop
Its so heavy
People ask me questions, my voice sounds steady
Strange and amusing to myself

Shortness of breath
Incredible need to be understood
So someone can help me understand
Help me understand why
Why all I have to do is look down
For it to start

What happened?!!
She'd asked
I didn't reply
I don't know

If I sat here, I could go on all night
but I cannot
I have an office to go to
And be someone I don't know
Someone who just does things
And smiles at people

I don't know...
Why don't I know ??!?!?!
What don't I know....

Long ago, a real real long ago, there was a point when I honestly believed that if I were stuck in an island, all alone, and had just books with me, I would be happy and content. Not want a thing more. Where is that me?
I bought books for 3 months straight... more than 4 dozen books lie unread in my shelf. I bought myself everything I wanted. But something is still missing.

Tell me why.
Or, tell me what.
Or at least, make it stop.