Alone in my Head

My work is kind of lonely. If I wanted, I could probably go the whole day without speaking a complete sentence to another human being. Muttering at my monitor doesn’t count. I spend so much time figuring out the best way to write something and puzzling together the right selection of words that I’m afraid I’m forgetting how to speak.

When someone asks me a question, my eyes lose focus. I feel the wheels turn and I stammer out a response. My fingers twitch in the air, because you know, they want input too. There’s a disconnect between my fingers and my mouth and it doesn’t help that Fingers don’t want Mouth speaking for them and that’s all Mouth does.

No matter how strong your brain muscle, there’s only so much deep concentration a person should have to undertake in one day. My eyes are tired, my poor, surgically enhanced orbs of goo... There’s still too much time left on this casual Friday, and I’m waiting for my second wind. Come on, second wind, see me through the five o’clock joyride. Don’t let me down, Paul Simon.

I dreamed I was almost branded. I stopped it right before the hot metal touched my skin. It would’ve been on my shoulder, about the size of a quarter. And I was letting it happen because I’d been tricked. But I figured it out. Just in time. And then I woke up.

Wherever I go, peoples’ voices sound the same. I think I keep meeting the same set of people over and over. I’m afraid I’ll accidentally call somebody by their old name instead of their new name.

This is why I have trouble articulating myself verbally: I’ve got no point. Maybe I should create a structured outline for all potential conversations. Yessir, then I'd have loads of stuff to say and people would come from miles around to hear me pontificate and we would live in champagne houses made of caviar beams...