I am currently covered in spots. 

What the fuck is up with my movement pattern?

I stride funny, I go down stairs funny, I get out of people's way funny. I'm a pretty fucked up guy.

Christ, I wonder what other people notice about me that I don't 

So I was in InfoTech the other day, plunking along on my keyboard as usual.

I looked down, and there were some hands doing the plunking.

But that isn't what my hands look like. My fingers are longer and thinner than that. The rest of my hand isn't that big. 

I kept on typing with these alien things attached to my arms.

I was going to write something here.

I don't remember what it was, but I think you should know that I was going to write something before I forgot.

Broken Glass

All right, this is going to seem a lot more emo of me than usual and I apologize for this.

There's this bit of broken glass sitting in the soap dish beside the bathroom sink. Whenever things get a little too fucked up I'd look at it and go 'If everything goes to shit I've got a way out'. The trick is that deep down I know that I'm not brave enough so I'd never even touch it.

What is bravery anyway? Is it bravery when you've got nothing at all to lose? Is it bravery when you've got everything to lose? Maybe it's both; is the beggar mugging a someone using only his words less brave than the soldier putting his life on the line for his family's freedom? Mind you, this probably isn't a very good example.

But the problem with knowing that there is no way that I'm brave enough to do anything is that I don't know myself very well.

Just recently I looked down at the bit of glass remembering everything I've ever seen or thought of things like that. None of that seemed as bad as the nothing that I had left. 

I needed to test myelf one last time though.

I picked up the sharp little bit of glass.

I ran it across the tip of my index finger.

It was plastic.

Maybe there's something wrong with me.

Okay, that's a pretty probable maybe.

But that isn't what troubles me - I'm used to something being wrong with me. Maybe you aren't though. Maybe you can't see it like I think you should be able to. I mean, you of all people know me best, so if anyone can see it it should be you. 

Of course, it probably isn't too obvious; I've been hiding things for a long, long time. So I guess that if you can't see it then nobody will be able to.

Maybe there's nothing wrong with me and I just think that there is.