9/1/12 10:45pm
i digress
sometimes it’s weird for me to think that I’m staring out of
the control station of my body.
able to man & move all of these parts just by thinking it.
i don’t even have to hire someone to do it.
just a natural energy that works as a fuel.
what’s weird is that i can’t tell the difference between thinking
about doing something and actually doing it.
i’m sitting here thinking, “move your pinky”, but i don’t move it.
but if i want to move my pinky i can move it.
when i do in fact move my pinky it doesn’t feel like I am even thinking
it before it’s done, but! i know that it has to be run by my brain before
the action is carried out.
the more i think into this theory i realize that there is actually a short
window of time where i think about “moving my pinky” before i actually
do it.
even as i sit here my face itches and i scratched it without thinking.
just an automatic response to a feeling.
now that i’ve pointed that out i am “consulting myself” before scratching
my face.
i think i prefer the automatic response to this.
i’ve come to the realization that we need “automatic” otherwise you will
have no room in your mind for thought.
these actions aren’t in need of questioning or consideration.
just response.
not to mention i have the “bugs crawling on my skin” effect in full motion
from all this talk of itching.
i think this overthinking of response actions can cripple people.
not always, but a lot of times i will overthink them in social situations.
basically, “maybe i should hold my arm this way while sitting here”
or “I should cross my leg as this girl approaches me with my order”.
treating my own body language and naturalities as an accessory.
as if i was sifting through my closet second guessing outfit choices.
i don’t think ones’s life should be spent any second longer than nessecary
thinking of these things.
maybe i’m totally wrong, but it feels like i’ve convinced myself that this is
just some heightened sense of introversion.
to be used at my disposal like some kind of sick gift.
playing on a seesaw of whether or not it’s worth getting rid of the thing that
might break me while lighting my way.
i don’t know what to make of all this.
truthfully i don’t even remember what started to finish here.
i remember the itching part at least because I’m still scratching.
maybe i’m finished because i just remembered..truthfully i forgot once again
while writing that sentence.
i’m not sure if this would be sad or amusing to someone reading.
alarming to those who know me or maybe it comes as no surprise.
i know there is a world outside of my mind that i’ve yet to take in.
when i try to observe this world i just want to be back in my head though.
i’ve been sitting on a bench outside an ice cream parlor for maybe the past twenty
minutes.
i might as well have been in a deep state of sleep.
i could barely recall, but a few details that have transpired. the dog barking from a
direction i could not make out is about it.
i’m distracted while writing this.
a group of girls have now taken a place on a bench to the left of me.
as plain jane, what’s her face, & john doe’s sister sit beside me i feel the social
anxieties coming on.
my hair now parted perfectly.
strategically picking my spots for when i touch my greasy; pomade infested top.
so not to seem like the vain tool that i actually am.
a perfect example on display for all.
touching the toothpick in my mouth with a hand so mannered.
is that attractive?
their faces are only peripheral vision blurs as are their words that i tune out to
write this.
i sit and pose for them when i have not the slightest idea of whether they’d be
worth knowing.
they have long since walked away.
they threw away not empty dessert cups and spoke about it.
naturally i cross my right leg over my left, scratch my left eye, and straighten my back.
only to naturally slip into my seat and hunch over as i sit here.
i need to piss.
the guy who works at the place told me the bathroom was closed.
in an effort to not appear like a normal person who just had to piss i asked if they were
still serving drinks.
juggling my words i ordered an iced tea i don’t want.
his good cop alter ego tells me “she might be almost done cleaning if you need
to use the restroom”
i pay for my glass of principal. don’t tip. don’t piss. there is a full ice tea
floating in the trash outside.