it downright shocks me, at times,

the personal information i'm apparently willing to share with people i've only just met. my mouth flies open and words come out of it that i have previously had difficulty even formulating to myself. scandalous.

other times, i'm a fucking clam, and that's not a conscious choice, either.

contemplating one's flaws is far more pleasurable in the summertime, i've discovered. seriously. an iced mocha, a sunny stoop, and some light navel-gazing? best show in town.

my innate cheekiness leads me

to sometimes reply to the subtext, rather than the actual statement, in a conversation. i don't even always know i'm doing it. people don't tend to like that - understandably, i suppose.

it's worst, though, when i reply to the wrong subtext and get that blank stare, telling me i've missed the mark by the length of a ball field. i think i may have myself convinced i read people far better than i really do.
should just learn to accept that some people, as far as i'm concerned, might as well be dusty scrolls written in sanskrit.