As if my world is this whirling amoeba, ends meeting in places I never expected and in ways that make my mind roll too fast in one direction or another. Is it truth? Is this some elaborate ruse? Am I someone’s Truman Show social experiment?
I have to catch myself.
The last one twisted bits of my brain I never wanted to exist, and now I think in the exact way I was fighting against. Jaded? Maybe. I’m betting it’s a development of social anxiety, but I could be wrong on that count too.
The level of uncertainty that comes with a new human interaction is gnawing at me on first word. I’m incapable of pulling out of my own thoughts of doubt, and putting myself back in my own body.
What happened? I used to leap at it. Make it mine. Give. No. Shits.
My sixteen-year-old self is looking at me in perplexion. And there’s no way that last one will ever know the damage.
I will always jump to tell you that I stopped caring about what people thought of me when I was thirteen.
Maybe just go read some JtHM and time travel to when I was all me.