Angst might not be in order- because see, there's really nothing to see here. Move along folks.

Now really, if that were true, I wouldn't be here. Because overall the point of this little exercise is to draw attention to myself. Look at what I can do! I can string words together in a somewhat interesting and fun way! How cool is that!

I can't stand on my head. Can't do a cartwheel- never could. Can't do anything that's really all that interesting. But I can tell stories. Sometimes. And I can make words come out. Like most people.

So probably not compelling. But like almost every other closet narcissist out there, I insist on thinking of myself as unique and interesting. Uncommonly interesting. It's just that simple, really.

Also, this is one hell of a lot cheaper to come by than therapy, and keeps the bad dreams at bay. Most of the time, that is.

I do have to say that there are days though, where I wish I didn't keep it under wraps- and could unleash the venom that I maintain inside in secret and closely held ponds. It doesn't go anywhere- just pools in the pancreas. Or some other mysterious organ- maybe the spleen. Some part that doesn't have a clear excuse for being in my body. I imagine the pools being relatively shallow, but very still. And very bad for me to keep in there. But the resultant shit storm of letting it all out is beyond what I want to cope with. So there it is. Like I said elsewhere today, blood makes noise. And I can't really hear you in the thickening of fear.