I was just thinking about all of this, sitting here in this classroom, glancing softly at certain people, knowing I wouldn't get a glance back from any one of them.
So, I killed it,
I killed the mood.
That happy mood that made me want to kiss the foreheads of every young child that crossed my path.
But who knows how it even got there in the first place.
Maybe it came along while sitting in that car, driving down the long road in the warm February sun that came so suddenly in the midst of a frozen winter.
I wish I was better at run-on sentences.
Or first impressions.
And finding the silver lining in the worsts of situations.
I'm trying to come up with a logical theory that explains why people make certain gestures when they get nervous. Like touching their hair. A lot. Or biting their nails till they wear down to the dry skin. Is it genetic?
Is everything just one big genetic hash?
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