How horrible, these sounds. Like thin glass knives.
I used to go out of my way to hear them, and I can’t now. I can’t stand it. I turn it off.
Maybe I used to be made of sterner stuff (is that possible?). Or maybe it’s just that I was that way–go ahead and shatter me…I’ll make sure you get cut, too–and being that thing, you can’t be harmed by it. Not in the same way.
It’s funny. It’s the first thing he ever gave me. And I wouldn’t even give him a real address…can’t trust those people on the internet, you know. That, and I did enjoy getting things in my university mailbox, even if it did take me ten minutes sometimes to get the damn thing open.
I wonder, sometimes, about the person who is using that mailbox now. I hope people send them things.
It makes me sad for things that have nothing to do with me.
Little dead animals…
My idiot meditation on whether the size of an animal would correspond to how awful I might feel if I killed it (don’t worry, I’m not crazy…it was just something I was thinking about once and realised I was being ridiculous. I wrote a rather lengthy post about it.).
I don’t know.
It makes me sad for things like the mock-excitement that she and I greet each other with, which has, over the months, lost a bit of its falsity. We are happy to see each other. Just so we can be ridiculous for a few minutes. It makes me sad for my threatening to kick him in the shins when he looks stressed out, just because I know he will laugh if I say something like that.
Makes me sad for all the times we find each other and just look at each other without saying anything.
I mean, what is all that? Me?
I wonder if other people do that. Act exaggeratedly excited or enthusiastic as a way to balance their overall somber dispositions. I didn’t mean to do that, but it’s kind of become a habit…and I ask myself all the time if I mean it, and…I don’t know. I mean, of course I don’t–it’s an exaggeration. But…I do mean it. It does what I want it to. It gets people to relax a little…smile…be ridiculous for a minute. They’re friendlier with me. They trust me more.
Is it bad that I’ve created a persona for myself with the intention of having that effect on other people?
I can’t tell.
As much as it’s worked out, I feel like maybe it’s a little false. I feel bad about that.
Except…it isn’t false, is it? That really is what I am like. Isn’t it? Ridiculous.
It’s the way it was when I was first Reeser.
You didn’t know me then.
And there would never have been a Reeser if it hadn’t been for the sounds cutting and cutting in.