I'm just asking.

The brain before you is unhinged, altered from the alleged blueprints the doctors claimed were adequate in the nineties. Though maybe their chart was upside down, who knows? Imagine your 'You' has a permanent view that loses touch like it's raining hats heroes that Warded you. You won't. protection rejection, right? Thought too worthless to your mind to not just get agitated and ghost the very concept. I'd say you can't, but that spite against, I don't know, luck, is making these rules, you know the ones. Feel like a trap to remove our humanity. You want good things, thoughts, my thinking is to keep the bats from joining the cobwebs where the right brain shoves all the rationality. Day-bats, well, winged moves that I do to disguise as one of you. Which is worse: being uncomfortably accepted with poorly worded versions of your descriptions being the only way they reference you, or admit that the silence inside never started, and during conversations like these, you depart entirely? Admit the seclusion is required, admit that 'vibes' are hormone-powered signals shared between guessers overstepping boundaries in sync.

"What up with you? Just be cool."

No focus, all passion. Misser of the coy cute hair toss smile combo, but read the disappointment you tried to hide in my reaction, and the table three down sharing my fate; if you'll accept my short answer to all of your questions. The lack of timing kills the synchronicity. Part of the charm? Part of something I was born into, without that owner's manual everyone got, missing the specific chapter on invitation/boundaries on the Goodwill edition.

"I'm still here, nice of you to ask."

In an hour, my self-esteem will get devoured when that makes sense, oh, wait... Known something was wrong for all the years.

Found out while looking for something else.

Would you expect something new to happen? Thus...

Words of pain... That's not quite right. The selection isn't the issue. Maybe the pattern, order, like the Goth in me, loses to the Absurdity, but even its sighs, facing another room of persons unnamed, all have perceived deaths in my frantic future tripping, waiting for the ceremony to get to the rice pelting.

"So, you do this at every wedding?"

Knowing about the fit isn't useful to me until I can say so,

"Can't say I'm TRYING to steal their show."

After the crash out, the zombie arms reach over the stall walls, and in there was when the three words first began pissing in the cornflakes--sorry, pissing in my Apple Jacks. Say it bluntly, right? I'm content. Content enough the sugar aides standing for sensation's sake, the blind folded dancing to raid the emotional clutter of the interior wisdom, on my full Shaman shit to channel mental clarity with the variety that fits raves. Ha, literally, in the dark, skull cap over the eyes, clear space in the adjustable dining room.

"Hey, those churches actually save."

Fuck society; living fairly, overly so, barely competent, socially so. Deemed capable enough to be ignored in certain lights, certainly, none of which suit me. Too choosy on who sees, the news we misinterpret of the clues in my latest tangent, rant to the stairway rails.

"--see, that's why crossing the intrusive line never adds in the--sorry, Ms. Ella. Let scooch over a bit more."

I feel on maybe two steps from the people I see and donate to on daily drives. Two steps away from screaming the conversational-ender in sagging, ripped jeans, making the traffic wait for my point to sink in, as the honks become a symphony of AuADHD support in my kerfuffle, morning daydream. My morning walks for routine's sake make it one step. But walks are part of why I'm fine. Why the turnaround done before knowing this shit is effective as a rampant introspective, not necessarily by choice, but suitably balancing. The escape was country-wide, the break could solidify no more of a path to sorting my shit out, and my inner peace returns, or I'm happy to meet it for the first time. So, what or who inside the dome consistently keeps asking...

"Are you okay?"