mistra mistra

Sup.

I used to go to the same cafe all the time for breakfast and I knew one of the waiters from high school but pretended like I couldn't remember him.  The first time I saw him there I was really depressed and leaving the house to begin with was a feat to be rivaled only by putting a man on the moon or maybe finding a missing plane.  Having to talk to someone was out of the question, un-doable, I wouldn't, I couldn't, so I didn't.  And this charade went on for about 2 years until he no longer worked there.  I'd be nearly crippled with anxiety when he was my waiter.  I wouldn't make eye contact, I'd have someone else order for me, I'd slip into the bathroom to avoid him.  Somebody suggested I just tell him that when I first came in and saw him I was depressed and didn't feel like talking aka the truth but so much time had gone by that I couldn't do it. 

What's the point?  Someone unknowingly reminded me of this situation recently and I needed something to post.  So the point is that I'm back to writing non-sensical junk for all your internet perusing amusement.  Yea, I'm talking to you.

A song from one one of my top 2 favorite albums.  If you don't have it, buy it...Stevie Wonder's Innervisions.