Oh Students Who Sat Right Behind Me.
Even though there are sixty to seventy empty seats to choose from,
You chose to sit right behind me.
You rustled your papers
And you, girl, spoke to your ugly ass boyfriend.
And I cannot say with certainty that you both did not do this to spite me:
Perhaps you like reading people’s text messages and laugh in your head when they turn the brightness all the way down on their phone just to thwart your gaze’s advances.
Perhaps you like laughing at all the frantic notes people take.
You’re an asshole.
“10/10 Best Ode of 2016”–IGN
The days you can laugh at yourself without regarding others opinions are the days you are truly free.
With anxiety disorders, that’s not always possible. At least, if you’re laughing at yourself, you’re doing it as to avoid further mind numbing embarrassment, because everyone else is already laughing. Your laughter won’t be comfortable or free-flowing as theirs, yours will be constrained and rather foul, as it is a result of feeling ignorant, small, and submissive among giants.
I wasn’t sure how today would go in terms of my personal emotions.
It’s kind of like the skeptic position Glaucon takes on the essence of justice being the means between two extremes: you can’t have the absolute best case scenario (the ability to do whatever you want, whenever you want, to whoever you want without ramifications) and you certainly don’t want the absolute worst case scenario (suffering at the hands of someone else’s assault against you without you getting some sort of revenge upon them, some sort of closure) so we all meet in the middle with laws and covenants in a rather vain attempt to avoid both.
I can’t have the absolute best case scenario (no unnecessary anxiety about anything at all, ever. NEVER.) and I don’t want the absolute worst case scenario (always having to be anxious over every little twist and turn and daily activity in life, which kind of is the case, but we’ll ignore that for now) so I try and meet in the middle with my brain and accept the fact that it’s impossible to predict how I will feel, what I will do, or how I will react in a situation. That at least takes away the anxiety of personal expectation.
Awkward eye contact with someone just ensued. He was staring right into my car. Go stare in your own car, freak. Fucking people, I swear. You know those people who wander past your house and turn their brooding gaze directly at you sitting on your couch, knitting the superbowl 50 beanie you plan on selling on Etzy? And when you glance at them, they act like they don’t notice the amount of privacy they’re invading at the moment because they keep staring?
I’m not talking about a quick look, like we all do–I mean, come on, if your window is open people are going to stare. I’m talking about the people whose stares equate to someone running up to your window and slamming their hands on the glass and widening their eyes and leaving their stank breath marks on your property.
Do you also know those days where your emotions are just stagnant and uninteresting? These are the days if someone were to tell me a joke I’d normally find hysterical, I’d laugh and play it off like I gave two shits.
I’m used to waking up teetering on the edge of really joyful or really depressed and I just let them fall where they fall.
Occasionally I’ll wake up teetering between the two extremes and I keep teetering throughout the day.
I honestly enjoy it. I find myself not caring about a lot of things I’d usually care about. Walking through crowds isn’t as difficult, speaking to people (although, it’s a personal preference of mine not to be around anyone these days) isn’t as difficult, and dissociating isn’t as difficult.
Which is obviously a problem when you have to pay attention in class.
I missed half the lecture today through my own little intrusive daydreams and moments of disconnect. Luckily, my brain is equipped quite well for these days and my hand becomes my executive. It basically recorded the whole lecture for me on paper.
Sometimes my vision inverts and any words outside of my head are ignored. I’m watching something else, somewhere else (my brain) and not giving two shits about the outside world. Sometimes it’s just blankness, sometimes I feel I’m not in reality (the real dissociation), and then sometimes I’m just day dreaming.
I sit on the left side of the lecture hall. On the far right past the professors podium, there’s an emergency exit or something. I thought someone opened it out of the corner of my eye but I was just trippin’. It triggered a good ten or fifteen minutes of me wondering what would happen if some random janitor stepped through the door and started mopping the floor, or if some random guy stepped through and started talking about nothing in particular. Then I wondered what would happen if a guy with a chainsaw stepped through.
Then I went into mind blankness for a while.
I wish I had the eloquence required to describe the mind blankness.
It’s just a disconnect. You’re not human any longer, you’re floating between existence and non-existence; you’re somewhat aware of your surroundings but you’re not.
Although, at some points I was highly aware of the two people who sat behind me. I hate people sitting behind me. There’s a huge ass lecture hall that fits way more students than we have enrolled in the class. Go sit somewhere else. Why right behind me. Why.
I know my shiny, luscious curls in my hair are attractive, but admire them from afar and sit at least a row away from me.
Unlike most people, I do bite.
While we shuffled down the stairs to turn in some papers, I tripped over a step I didn’t know was there and almost slammed into the math nerd in front of me. I blurted “Shit!” really loud and then started laughing at myself. Too bad I was the only one laughing.
I thought it was pretty funny. People don’t have humor senses anymore.
Or maybe it’s the professor. Maybe her sheer presence quells their ability to judge for themselves what’s funny and what’s not just because they aren’t sure if it’s proper to laugh. Perhaps all the talk about the subjectiveness of the world made them subjective of their subjectiveness and therefore heavily self-conscious.
I’m more like the professor: I don’t give two shits.
She says offense and unconventional things all the time and so do I. It’s not that I don’t care about people’s feelings, it’s that it shouldn’t really matter. An opinion is an opinion, words are words, jokes are jokes, if you can’t see all of them and take all of them for what they are without intertwining your weird (and very subjective) emotions into everything, you’re bound to be offended by a lot of things.
I’m talking about the kind of people who are religious and then get offended when you say you’re atheist.
Life is offensive half the time. Get over it.
People have the need to protect themselves, and I understand when feeling offended is like being attacked.
I always think people are attacking me.
That’s why I carry four Katanas.
Think I’m lying? Come sit behind me in a lecture hall.