It's 2: 19

I know it is. And the timer is wrong on here and I never feel like fixing it. I decided I would through the motions of switching to the new blogger. I think the only difference is a few new templates. I'm a little under the influence of of (notice the doubling of the "of"s that was not intentional that was an error) fermented drinks. What I'm saying is I'm a little tipsy. But before this I kept saying I need to internet log things before I forget them and their lost in competing thoughts. So I said you know what I can't sleep and it'll be interesting to look back on this time when I couldn't stop thinking about that time when I was at Chipotle a couple days ago. It was last week and I was feeling a little invisible. That's how I usually feel and I think one day I won't but that day I did. So I'm sitting outside eating my overpriced food that I should have cooked at home and this guy with a faux hawk came walking outside and his friend is standing there, kind of next to my table, and he's just standing there. And he says to the guy with the faux hawk "Dude you have a staring problem." and Faux Hawk says "What? I was staring at you." and I'm there looking kind of mean as usual, a facial expression I had since I was a kid because I looked how I felt and now I can't change that face. So I'm kind of on autopilot, I mean I'm there and I'm moving and I chewing but I'm not really there, I think I was in the third grade or high-school or Chicago, but I wasn't really at that table. And then all of a sudden I realize where I'm at and I realize what he said and we're the only ones outside so..... if he's convincing his friend that he was looking at him does that mean....that he really was looking at...me? And he walks up to his friend and he has the mischievous grin on his face as his other friend joins him and I feel the stares. And he didn't even seem like the type to stare at brown skinned girls but times change and so do preferences but I didn't notice because I was in London. I then I look at the time and my lunch is almost over and so I walk past...and I'm in Miami and I could have sworn, I would have bet money that he said "that's a banging ass man". They looked liked surfers that's what I call extremely white bread american their parents are probably republican but their rebelling so they go surfing and are pretty much apathetic...light beige guys. Looking at tight khakis and brown eyes that have no idea what is going on until she walks into her car and realize they watched her walk there. I'm not ashamed of feeling a little less invisible. But I can't help to wonder if I would have cared if it was a group of brown skinned bold hey girl what's your name let me get a taste of that lunch guys. I probably would have still been in Norway. This blog probably would have still been the same. My ears are ringing louder than usual.

It's like I'm a mime trapped in that box that their always trapped in, but their is no box! They made it up it's not real, nonbelievers just stick their hand through the invisible wall and shake their heads but the mime is aware of it's structure and of course it's just an act for them, they go home and wash of the make-up and talk all they want but I can't seem to separate the invisible box from the real world and sometimes I feel like I need to explain so people won't think I'm strange everytime I get so nervous about invisible fears I wish could say..."Oh yeah...I know I act strange but there's this wall, you can't see it but, to me it's there and it's preventing me from..." but I can't because that's so weird. It's 2:59...think that's enough.