On inconvenience, maybes and too many questions

If I stop writing, I fear I’ll vanish, 2015 life fading into the broader cultural era of #HotlineBling, millennial scrutiny and the introvert vs. extrovert non-debate. While I’d love to chat with you about my favorite Drake dancing memes (I mean, have you seen the tennis edition of Hotline Bling?), and while I’d love to debunk the old “Millennials are entitled and lazy” rubbish, I’m captured by the little moments that will never occupy a year-end recap or cultural lore. For me, 2015 was a battle with inconvenience; in particular, the notion that my existence is inconvenient.

Feelings are by nature inconvenient, the way they strike unexpectedly, leaving me tearing up at some seemingly minute detail. And when I’m ready to talk about something, the way audible words fail, leaving me, as usual, to furiously type one-liners in my iPhone as I walk through the skywalk on my way to who knows where, nearly barreling into walls, poles, signs, the like. The nagging conclusion that my existence is inconvenient is especially potent when I’m trying to impress someone I like a whole lot. I fear I’m texting too often, asking too many questions, trying to impart all the supposedly ‘cool’ things about me. My words become peppered with “justs,” “Sorry to bother you” and, “I was wondering if maybe,” my sense of self-esteem unconsciously negated in language.

If I stop writing, I fear I’ll vanish, and so will my feelings, exhilarating, nagging, unexpected and inconvenient alike. This post is, perhaps, a contract of sorts, one in which I pledge to quit perceiving my existence as inconvenient, quit trivializing what I have to say through “justs” and “maybes.” I’ll say, “Hi, I want to spend time with you because I like you,” and I’ll ask all the questions I damn well please.

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