Awkwardness

I don’t know if you’ve noticed how awkward I get around you but I can’t help it, it’s like a switch in me just flips and I spurt forth randomnesses that may or may not make sense , or I might not say anything at all, effectively becoming like one of those human statues I’ve seen in Hollywood, except that I’m not covered in cool metallic paint or anything like that. If you haven’t noticed it’s because:

(a) You don’t care enough to notice.

(b) I’m an extraordinary actress.

(c) You’re thinking and observing skills are about as deep as a puddle’s.

I hope it’s (b), (a) would hurt a little – ok, more than a little, (c) would mean that I am capable of socializing with puddles more than I am willing to accept.

“Are you ok?” you ask, snapping me out of my revelry. I shut my mouth, which of course, was hanging open as I stared at you like some demented person. I nod.

Yup, that was awkward.

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