When Sorting it Out feels like Being Dumped

Ever found yourself in a situation where it suddenly occurs to you that you've made someone else feel incredibly uncomfortable? And then trying to work out how you did it, in the hope of undoing it?

Like the time you accidentally told your boss that you love your job, despite that time you tried to trap their head in the filing cabinet, and the awful, metallic croaking sound you made when you tried to laugh it off and make out you were just joking; or the time you were invited to a 'party' only to find that you were the only one who mysteriously had not arrived dressed as a Nazi, and the way they all looked at you, each one of them silent; or when you suddenly realized that you had been singing along to your walkman on the train; or wetting the bed the first time you slept with someone new.

Is it because you have said too much, or is it because you have not said enough? Could be either. Could be due to the fact that you were caught attempting to fake your own death, or caught in your neighbour's garage, dressed as the guy from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. At least with these things you know where you went wrong. I just feel as though I've been in some kind of slow-motion car accident. I haven't been this moody in years.

Right now I'd like to have some kind of expertly crafted mask of my face made, complete with patches of dry skin, blotches, grey bits, scars, intermittent stubble, glassy eyes that I don't have to look out of, and life-like bags beneath them. And when their attentions are all turned, I can slip it on, emphasize that nothing funny is going on by crossing my legs, tapping my foot in the air, admiring the view with my fake Madame Tussaud's eyes, and keeping my molded mouth firmly shut.

Rollo Kim.