inquest

I grew up my whole life thinking I was in a narrative autobiography and whenever it rained, it meant a new chapter had begun…

If someone comments on the t-shirt I’m wearing, I can never wear it on a day I think I might see them again.

Whenever I speak to someone over the phone, I always have to be walking somewhere. I’m either walking home from the train station, walking down town, or just pacing back and forth in my room. Walking helps me concentrate on what’s going on in the conversation, otherwise the conversation would be incredibly bland.

I have to make a conscious effort every day to keep my thoughts internal. It’s worse when I’m stressed out. I catch myself muttering sometimes and have to physically bite my tongue. I worry that when I’m old I’ll lose my filter and say all of my thoughts out loud....

I don’t read the side effects of any medicines I take because if I do, I’ll be paranoid that they’ll happen.

When I was kid, I believed inanimate objects had feelings, so I wouldn’t kick stones. One time, I injured myself ‘rescuing’ a flashing traffic horse, after my friends had thrown it into a large puddle.

I really, really hate using blue pens for writing notes in my lectures. If I don’t have a black pen, I feel like my entire day is thrown off and there’s no point in even keeping those notes anymore. I’ve even re-written some blue-ink notes in black just to restore order.

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