A Chink in the Armor

Busy - trying not to let my thoughts wander too much, trying not to seem too interested in watching my hands move when I tell them to. I can't help it. It's too early. There are too many.

I've done well, though, nothing too unusual today: it's almost time to leave, finally.

Someone asks a question. I turn to look at them, and there are her eyes, like headlights, the hot circles carved in the back of my head told me so, so long ago. I don't really understand how the two of us operate to be honest...but today, I wasn't ready to acknowledge that she thinks about me. It's just too early. We understand each other too well, yet not well enough, it seems.

Of course, now I'm anxious, but we can finally leave! I can't go out the front door, the rest of them watch me too closely for that not to be logged away. A bold dash through the middle of the aisle it is. I regret this decision already.

I'm walking too fast. I'm drawing attention. She knows I'm walking too fast; probably doesn't know what to make of it. Thank goodness she doesn't take things like this personally, like all the other behemoths here touting their self-proclaimed familiarity with my actions.

Two people. One on the left, one on the right. They insist on trying to walk up the aisle while maintaining a conversation with people across the room, and acting as if they have no idea they're blocking the whole aisle. Of course, by this time, I'm a mixture of panic and fury, trying to squeeze between them without being rude. It takes two tries.

Just as I'm home free, a girl talking to some guy looks at me with every thought attached to my visage etched into her face. I'm surprised she can even move her face anymore with that kind of effort. I know she's not thinking a whole lot about it of course. But me? The flood gates have opened, my mind is hemorrhaging, and I need to get out of there. I tried to keep a neutral face, but I winced a little...to the self-centered it probably looked like and will be thought of as a look of disgust. Oh well. I'd like to see them not wince when there's razors and nails scraping against the inside of their skull. Not to mention the poltergeist thoughts and memories that love to come out at the most inopportune times.

I walk too fast, way too fast, unreasonably fast out the door, and outside where I can breathe. It was just too early. There just were too many. They think they're familiar with me. She was looking at me again. I needed more time to re-construct myself. I just wasn't ready for this today.


Tomorrow will be even worse.


~Vague