i was sitting at the front desk when i realized i had left my phone in the car.
i had one minute before i had to be signed in and turn the phones off from their night mode
eh… not enough time….
i can’t believe i actually got to work before 8:00. i felt so grownup.
i made it to my desk and returned emails and phone calls for what felt like an eternity
oh… that only took five minutes…
i delivered a couple of boxes to the billing department and came back upstairs
to grab my keys and head down to my car via the service elevator.
i hit the G button a little too hard and tapped my foot impatiently as the elevator descended
dying in an elevator would be the worst thing ever…
why am i always thinking about dying?
i headed to my car and cursed the sun for already being so hot… i thought about how much prettier i look in the sunlight especially from the right angle as i unlocked my car.
and that’s when i realized it.
i narrate my life.
my brain is endlessly writing a novel, and i’ve never noticed it until now.
my thoughts about myself are often thought in third party form… do other people do this, too?
maybe i should just start carrying around a notebook and pen.
maybe i’ll write a bestseller.
it will be about taking pictures and blogging and getting married young and always wanting to live far away.
and people will judge me for complaining so much
but they’ll be wrapped up in how it’s going to end
i know i am