Friday, September 27, 2013


She thinks I'm awkward. Maybe I have social anxiety with some other medical saying attached to it. She looks at me and knows my thoughts. Her blonde pony tail bounces as she clicks by me.

Now he is definitely judging me. He knows I am heading home now, knows that I'm in a fight with someone, he probably guesses with someone I'm close to, a best friend. He glances at me and I speed up my pace. Now I'm sure he knows my soul. Just from that little neurotic motion. 

A boy, with brown hair that is gelled up to look like a duck butt sticking out of water, runs over to the judging one. They hug in a formal way, they must not know each other well. Then the first boy motions to duck boy down in my direction. 

They're talking about me. They think I'm paranoid, think I'm nervous. I hate walking through the behavioral psychology department.

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