Whenever he had something important to say to me, he would always begin with “Okay, so…” I’d never be able to tell whether it was going to be good or bad, but I knew it was always something he was nervous about telling me—so hearing “Okay, so…” always made me nervous too.
Now I’m in this cab because I didn’t tell anyone I was going to leave and the driver won’t stop asking me if it’s legal/moral for ambulance drivers to turn on their sirens if they’re just bored in traffic because he thinks there’s no way there are that many emergencies happening at once in Manhattan, and I’m watching people walk around and wondering if I will ever figure it out.
Sorry!
Just ignore my messages behind my back like a functioning member of society, you psychos.
The world is ending, this country is canceled, there’s a weird pain on the left side of my body—these are screaming exercises for when everything is actually a disaster and no amount of eucalyptus pillow mist spray is going to help you. Namaste.
It lives in memories of taking Adderall in college and in thinking about that one time I closed my eyes at 3AM and could feel my eyes whizzing around really fast behind their lids and my heart racing and I remember thinking: why do I need this to do what everyone else is doing?
Alternate headline: On Falling Out Of Love With Summer
NCIS (seriously). Backstory: I took some career personality test as part of the practice ACT exam (???), and it told me that I should go into law enforcement—which is how I ended up here, over-sharing my feelings on the internet! JK, I decided the only way to know for sure whether I was destined for this was to obviously watch NCIS. I can’t even look at ads for this show anymore because it just makes me think about standardized tests and the stomach ulcer I had in 2011.
A guy with about 400 shopping bags sits down next to me on the 6 and his leg bumps into mine. I dramatically move my legs away to signal that I hate the fact he’s basically sitting on top of me, but he uses it to his advantage and fills up the space. I try to re-download apps on my phone, but Shopping Bag Guy keeps hitting my leg.
Frankly, there is nothing more embarrassing to me than spending time trying to verbalize something crazy you’ve concocted in your head, only for someone to immediately be like, “um, hm, okay. That was kind of dark! How about you just try being neurotypical?”