Sentience, Self-Awareness, and Self-Consciousness

Just a couple of observations, using paragraphs that begin with I’s.

I feel so naked sometimes. There are times when I’m coming out of the 66 5th Avenue building, it’s -2°C out, I’ll suddenly feel like I’m not wearing underwear. Sometimes I need to double check to see if I have shoes on too. Parsons has successfully made me feel bad about not going to class, I overslept through both of my 12pm and 6pm class. I know, how is that even possible? My sleep cycle is messed up again. Even though I got some work done in between and afterwards… still, not only do I feel extremely worthless and behind now, I also kind of wasted some tuition money that will then be used to enhance the “Welcoming Center” or our interestingly decorated lobby.

I’ve probably stared at you on the subway. If it’s a long ride and there were a lot of people, I might have read your Bukowski fiction with you. We’ve probably conversed while sitting next to each other, and you probably started the conversation by asking me what kind of camera I was holding. I probably then regretted being drunk and not remembering your name after getting off at some sketchy station in the middle of nowhere/Queens. If I happened to be sitting in a seat that’s below the map, you probably wanted to find out where you were going by hovering your body over me to get a better look. While you were doing that, I’ve probably counted how many buttons were sewn onto your shirt. I’ve probably imagined what you would look like if you were bald or didn’t have eyebrows, then secretly giggled without moving any of my facial muscles. I’ve probably looked over at your child’s Nintendo DS wondering why he’s so stupid he can’t even get pass level 4 of Donkey Kong. If you smelled like fruits, I’ve probably purposely stood near you just to get a whiff of it, but not in that Febreeze or creepy molester way. I’ve probably gotten mad at you in my head for sitting across me, blocking the last few words in the sentence of an ad about MTA fares increasing. Now I will never know.

I don’t like the way my legs look when I am standing. My knees indent from the side awkwardly like ostrich legs.