I hate stories that start with “It all started when..”

It started with nothing. Or, It started with STILL wondering if what i said was too much too weird, or too forward, like a lot of the things i do. like a lot of the way i DEAL with the things I do. Making up for silent time. Like breaking a diet and wondering if it’s NORMAL to eat a second bunch of grapes or just beastly, cause I can’t remember the rules anymore. (What am i talking about? You’ll never know.) I get anxious.

It may have been the surprise-meek burp i did in my cubicle after that Coke Zero. or how Lifeless I feel during the day. (no complaints! Just frustation – good ideas, bad ideas(?) or could-be-good ideas, I’ll never know.) It could’ve been the things I said at the end of our conversation in the car yesterday which of course weren’t anything really, but shrugging things off is hard for me. then wondering should I STOP thinking about it? Cause what if i AM silly/vulnerable/idiotic. Or should I keep on thinking about it and hope that the THINKING about it will make it better. (It didn’t. It made me sick.) Do I catch people offguard? Am i catch-off-guardable?But people say stupid things ALL THE TIME. I have it done to me at least 7 times a day. Also people give mixed messages ALL THE TIME. that’s done to me, too. So i can mix if i want. I’ll mix. Meanwhile I’ll make myself look a hair less brave than I usually look.

Now, on my own, I put the massive car into the drive way and walked into things I won’t write about here. Things you wouldn’t understand. Things you couldn’t understand. Things…… you shouldn’t understand. (You don’t understand. You don’t wanna get messed up with a guy like me.) Things I try exponentially to not be like. Also I’m getting ugly. Everywhere. Crossing over AND NOW(?) exposing my true shyness in conversations and feel dumb afterwards. Awesome. Not that it matters what people think – it’s what *I* think right? yeah, um, totally, but could you read this thing I wrote and tell me whatcha think? Cause I don’t know, sometimes.

I walked to the other side of town hoping i’d run into him walking his dog. I did. Talked about the moon and how full it was – I’m ok with cliche moontalk – it depends on who I’m with. I don’t recognize the street – these houses are so big and pretty. I loved it. (Not comparing to mine, just enjoyed the prettiness.) Also, I recognize the streetnames more through pizza and sauteed broccoli rabe deliveries. My face is a pink eye and I’m still thinking about my silliness (or not-silliness). STOP WORRYING. the most they’ll think is you’re a shy girl – THANK YOU, real, in-person, voice who’s not an im conversation! Thank you, Peacoat, Thank you, tea-at-your-house. Thank you, Newsday crossword puzzle and that triangle-shaped teabag. (You can’t say Tea bag anymore without sounding dirty and it’s a real shame cause you shoulda seen this teabag. it was all triangly and looked like it was made of fabric. Yeah, it still sounds dirty.)

I sat on the couch while he did his taking-work-home work for Work and read his David Sedaris book. I had 20 minutes before he picked up his pop and dropped me home, so I read the one he recommended. I was kid-tired. Reading a short story by a writer you trust is like saying, “Hey, Show me something outside of myself – the way you… used ti(?)” You got 15 minutes – go.” That’s why I shouldn’t stop liking things just because everyone plus their great-aunt likes them – we can still be friends, Mr. Sedaris. We always were…….. Tongue kiss. Credits.

I call this evening, “Welcome to Life.” Not, “Welcome to Life, Kid” Just “Welcome to Life.”

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