run while you can

Never let me down again.

Expressionless Austin in disguise. Madison, WI. Spring 2010.

The tendency to over complicate is an aspect of my character. Be it my perspective on a relationship or sticky rice- I’ll blow ’em both out of proportion. Often over-eager to place myself in someone else’s shoes, I reach conclusions that are not quite  my own. Still, I must be entitled to something of an opinion- no matter how unusual my thought processes and respective practices.

Alright. Forget the cryptic nonsense. Coming at you straight-up.

I feel like a completely different person everyday. I notice how all substances affect my body. Sugary cereal makes me giddy. But add too much milk, and I’ve got gas. Two cups of coffee put a skip in my step. Make it three, and I’m feeling underwater. A cigarette after lunch, I’m relaxed. But smoke the cancer stick beforehand, and my head is spinning.

Naturally, all these variations affect my mood; far beyond food, you all affect my mood too. I once read a monologue that included the line: “I am very sensitive to the vibrations of people around me.” This attitude leaked into my daily experience. I notice glances and glares. Wrinkled foreheads signify frustration while a raised eyebrow might mean something entirely different.  I worry about what I express in sound and in silence. I worry that I worry too much.

I worry about the consequences of misunderstanding. I worry that I am a narcissist. I worry I am too demanding. I worry about the contents of this very list. I worry I’ll live past my prime. I worry I’ll die alone. I worry I’ll turn to crime. I worry about my tone. I worry that angst rules my words and coffee has stunted my growth. I worry about you and I both.

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