Penni, Coby, I woke up this morning, waiting for a chipmunk to race across my bed so I could pull it's guts out.
I don't know why that happens. I should have this keyboard detached from the bed when it does.
I do realize it's all unimportant. If I were sitting at your table, poking berries, I would be happy. Very.
I live in fear, much of the time. Social anxiety. I admit I find these things funny myself ~ maybe the funniest thing about life. Narration and events being the most real. The most funny to me.
My image of Penni is as you described, and I can't: Taking seriously perfection in singing (I was thinking of that while in the shower ~ this balance) and responsibility and writing, and not many things that aren't worth taking seriously. Like would make a new dessert rather than go back and perfect chocolate. You're not fussy. Fussy is OK, but it makes me want to go out to the lawn.
Drinking, btw, helps me overcome these things, and fit right in. Maybe that's what's wrong! I am just a very nervous guy. Golly. I get swamped by that, instead of being there, and who I am.
I'm sorry I made you explain yourself, when I didn't explain myself so well. |
